Year 7 Harry Potter and the Seer's Prophecy
by Ady
Summary: “Every beginning has an ending; every life shall fade away; every story has a hero; every darkness…dies with day.” Harry's final year at Hogwarts. UPDATE: Chapter 29 is up!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer:  The wonderful, glorious, absolutely great J.K. Rowling created the amazing world of Harry Potter.  Not me.  Never think otherwise.

Dedication:  I'd like to dedicate this fic to the Riddles, whom without I never would have known about fanfiction.net.  Thanks, Riddles!  Aenigma Aeternus!

WARNING:  If you have not read all four of the HP books by the wonderful, glorious, absolutely great J.K. Rowling, SHAME ON YOU!!!  Also, you shouldn't read this fic.  A further warning, this fics contains spoilers to my *Year 5* Harry Potter and the Day of Dreams and *Year 6* Harry Potter and the World of Change.  Also, if you haven't read those fics, there will be a few plot things you won't understand.  You have been warned.

*Year 7*  Harry Potter and the Seer's Prophecy

Chapter 1:  Prologue

            Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin.  The Hogwarts founders were some of the greatest wizards and witches that ever lived.  Each had a different strength, his or her own way of looking at existence.  But their goal was the same:  change the world, for the better.  This they did, though inner quarrels and rough times were plentiful.  They brought education to the ignorant, hope to those in despair, and light to dark times; that legacy lives in Hogwarts.

            Yet each left a their own legacy that has passed through the ages, leaving its mark only by producing great magicians in each generation.  It was thought of simply as that, something that had little purpose, something just there.  That is, until the year 1973, after Lily Evans and James Potter's first Divination class.  There, from the most unexpected source, came a hint, a possibility that those who had the founders' blood were meant for something more.  So the precious few who knew of this watched, and waited…  Waited for twenty-four years.

            The wait is over.

            "Every beginning has an ending; every life shall fade away; every story has a hero; every darkness…dies with day."

~*~*~

A/N:  So another year begins.  As you would know if you read my A/N at the end of year 6, you would know that I'm VERY excited about this fic. (Heh, just watch, it'll flop.  Thus the story of my life…)  But really, I like it.  I've got a lot of strings to pull together, but it should be fun.

            Oh, and I'm working on chapter 1. *sigh* Can't I just skip to the middle? *mumble, grumble*

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	2. Going Home

Chapter 2:  Going Home

            "Up, up, up, Harry!" Sirius yelled, bursting through the door.

            Harry sat up in surprise, then groaned as Sirius flung back the curtains and let in the blinding sun.

            "Why?" he mumbled, still not coherent enough to blink his eyes at the same time.

            "We have a busy day ahead of us," Sirius said, annoyingly cheerful so early in the morning, "Just get dressed and come down to breakfast."

            With that, Sirius left the room as suddenly as he had entered.  Resisting the urge to flop back in bed, Harry dragged himself to his feet, stretching.  From outside the window came the early morning noises of Diagon Alley.  Harry couldn't believe they'd been there only a week.  It seemed like forever, though in a good way.  The Leaky Cauldron always had felt more like home than Privet Drive ever would.

            After slipping on some of Dudley's old clothes, (still ten sizes too big, but the only thing Harry had) he rushed down the stairs, taking them three-by-three.  Sirius was already seated, eating from a breakfast feast set for two.

            "So, what are we doing today?" Harry asked, sitting down, "Does it have anything to do you popping in and out of here all the time?"

            "As a matter of fact, no, it doesn't," Sirius said, with a hint of a laugh, "Well, let's see…  We'll be wanting to get back to Hogwarts for a few things, and of course we have to get some summer clothes for you.  No godson of mine is going to wear clothes that once belonged to the world's only living blimp."

            Harry smiled.

            "We'll do all that later," Sirius added, waving the statement off, "but first…you're going home, Harry."

            "You mean you already have a house?  I didn't think after Azka-"

            "No, Harry.  We're going to your home," he said with a soft smile, "I think it's time you saw Godric's Hollow."

            Harry froze.  "You mean…"

            "We're going back together this time, Harry.  But, if you want to visit it alone sometime, you'll be more than free to do so.

            Sirius gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze, then broke out into a larger smile.

            "I've got our mode of transportation," Sirius said, his eyes gleaming, "Can you guess?"

            Harry looked puzzled a moment and then it dawned on him.  "The motorcycle?!  Oh wow, Sirius!  Can we fl-"

            Sirius quickly clapped his hand over Harry's mouth.  "No mention of the extras out in the open like that.  Those are some modifications I made back then, but I could still get in trouble now.  But yes, we can, once we get on an empty country road."

            "I hope it's better than riding a hippogriff," Harry said, with a smile.

            "Ug, don't remind me," Sirius said, the very thought of riding Buckbeak enough to make his head ache.

            "What do you say we go higher?" Sirius called over the roaring engine and rushing wind.

            "Uh…sure…" Harry said, tightening his grip around Sirius' waist.

            Apparently, when Sirius said higher, he also meant faster.  Harry had to suppress a scream as they tumbled upward, passing through a final layer of clouds and up into blue nothingness.  More than once he feared the wind would tear his shirt, now billowing behind him like a mini-parachute, clean off his back.

            "There won't be much use for this baby," Sirius called back to Harry, "Especially after you learn to apparate.  But it's fun as beats all!"

            Harry wasn't sure he'd agree.  He knew he definitely preferred a broom.  The motorcycle had none of lightness, agility, or awe-inspiring quietude of a broom.  Plus, Harry wasn't the one in control.

            "Hold on, Harry, we're going cloud-hopping!" Sirius yelled, his blue eyes shining with mischief from behind a pair of round goggles.

            Instinctively, Harry clutched onto his black helmet, a twin to Sirius' except without the eye protection.  He soon found out that cloud-hopping was just a version of leapfrog—played a couple of thousand feet in the air, of course.  They dove up and down, up and down, as if riding some rampaging roller coaster.  After Sirius finally pulled the bike into a level flight again, Harry noticed that his mouth was upturned.  He was smiling.  Even with all the terror that had been wrenching through his stomach, he had to admit it was fun.  Plus, he was still on the bike.

            "Man, that felt good!  Boy, have I missed you," Sirius said, giving the motorcycle a loving pat.

            Sirius suddenly did a double take of some of the gears and knobs between his handlebars.  "Whoa, we're almost there!  Gonna have to do a quick dive landing, Harry," Sirius warned.

            Harry gulped slightly.  "Can't we just slow doooooooowwwwn…"

            They rocketed downward, Harry sure that he had just gulped down more than his fair share of clouds.  After a few moments of fluffy white blindness, they emerged from the haze, the ground once again in sight.  All below them was woods, the green tops of at least a thousand trees.  Nestled among them was a roof, the only one, it seemed, for miles.

            It was for this that they headed in their near vertical dive.  As the trees grew more and more into focus, Harry clenched his eyes tight.  He was sure that he'd be in a thousand pieces when he opened them again.  But Sirius quickly pulled out of the dive, and the biked touched down as lightly as a feather.  Harry hopped off as though he had suddenly realized the seat was on fire.  He stared at the woods around them, taking off his helmet and pulling a hand through his matted and sweaty hair.  Staring up and down the deserted dirt road, he wondered where they could possibly be.

            "Hey, Sirius," Harry said, turning around.  However, Sirius didn't answer.  He was staring at the other side of the road, not moving.  That's when Harry noticed it.

            A short, crumbling brick wall enclosed the area.  It was covered in dry patches of yellow-green moss and the spray paint of gangs that had decided a decaying wall was worth claiming.  Once upon a time, there had been two beautiful brass lights atop the ends of the wall.  One, however, had been completely destroyed, while the other was a mass of twisted metal lying in a pool of broken glass.  The gate, rusted beyond recognition of what metal it had been, stood slightly ajar, forever unable to close properly.  Written in the metal, a little bent but still legible, were the words "Godric's Hollow."

            Harry walked slowly forward, his heart pounding for some unknown reason.  He stood looking at the gate a moment, then slowly traced the "G", as though he thought it was an illusion that would simply disappear if he touched it.  Some of the rust was loosened, falling to the ground in a red dust.  Suddenly, he looked up, gazing through the gate.  Beyond it were more trees, but unlike the woods, these were placed artfully around the enclosure.  The garden must have been beautiful once, but the plants that hadn't died off by now had grown wild.

            And that was it.  Harry wasn't sure what he'd been expecting.  A mansion, a cottage, any house really, as long as it didn't look like those on Privet Drive.  But this…  There was nothing.  A pathway of large flat rocks that seemed to lead to nowhere, yes, and something that might be a chimney, though Harry couldn't see it well through the trees and bushes, but there was no house.

            "So this is Godric's Hollow…  This is home…"

            "No," Sirius said, coming up next to him and gazing at the lot just as Harry was, his voice just as empty, "This was Godric's Hollow."

            Harry pushed the gate opened, it groaning in protest through the deep quiet, and walked down the path overgrown with weeds.  Silence seemed to reign over all.  Not even the birds sang.  Or maybe they did, but Harry was sure not one did so within the wall's enclosure.  He walked slowly down the path, looking around at everything as though his parents might suddenly appear from behind a tree.  Sirius followed him, looking around also, almost willing everything to go back to the way it was sixteen years ago.  Neither got his wish.

            As the path got nearer its destination, Harry looked up, finally seeing what they were headed toward.  So it had been a chimney.  Tall, brown, and dirty, but still standing, a battered memorial to the home it had once warmed.  At its feet and the surrounding area was the foundation of a house.  The floor was still intact, the carpet too, though worn and dull from things other than scampering feet and family wrestling matches.  Here and there the wall jutted out a little higher, a defiant part that refused to fall.  The side of one doorframe still stood also.  One, two, three steps were there, too, heading off to some second story that no longer existed.

            His feet having taken on a mind of their own, Harry walked into the outline of the house, looking around and hoping he might remember what it looked like with walls.

            "The house was in ruins when I got here," Sirius said, as though answering a question that hadn't been asked, "Completely unsalvageable.  It's a wonder you were still alive.  You and your crib were about the only things unscathed.  They cleaned away the rubble afterward, trying to recover any possessions still intact."

            Sirius walked around and through what had once been a doorway to another room, mostly out of habit, for it would have been quicker to step over the small remains of wall.  He stared somewhere off to the right of the fireplace, as if seeing something Harry couldn't.

            "This is where they kept your crib," he said, as if giving a tour of some long ago battlefield, "The warmest room in the house, Lily said.  When I came here and saw them, I wanted the whole world to end.  There didn't seem to be any point to it.  But then I heard you crying."  Sirius looked up at Harry, the smallest hint of a smile in his eyes.  "There you were, bawling your eyes out, but very much alive.  And I knew I had to live."

            As Harry went over to him, trying to imagine the crib there, Sirius shifted his gaze to the corner of the room.  He slowly walked over there, his hand half reached out, trying to hold onto something.

            "This is where they kept their Christmas tree," Sirius said quietly, eyes brimming with tears, "They loved Christmas so much…  Your first Christmas, I was here, you weren't quite five months old.  I gave you a small green and white teddy bear.  When I held it out to you and pressed it so it'd squeak, you must have been startled, because the next thing I knew, my hair was the same color as the bear.  Heh, I thought Lily and James might die of laughter.  They were so proud…"

            Harry stared at the corner, certain that he could hear a few cords of "Deck the Halls" playing softly.  For some reason, the memory had hit Sirius hard.  He stood in silence for a long while, his muscles tensing up now and then to hold back the sobs.

            "Did they have an angel or a star?" Harry asked, his eyes fixed on the corner about seven feet up.

            "What?" Sirius said, his voice normal but his eyes a little red.

            "Every Christmas at the Dursleys, I'd imagine what my tree would look like if my parents were alive.  What did they have on top?"

            "A star, always a star.  The brightest, most beautiful star."

            "Good.  The Dursleys always had an angel.  How I hated that thing."

            This took any grief out of Sirius' eyes.  Harry smiled back at him a moment, then turned away, walking slowly to the center of the room.  He looked around, trying to see what had been there, but to no avail.

            "I wish I could remember something," he said quietly, "Anything but that night.  I was hoping coming here would remind me, but it hasn't.  I don't remember anything…"

            Sirius walked over to him, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder.  "How could you?  This isn't the home you knew, Harry.  Everything was so different.  And you were only one year old."

            "I know," Harry sighed, "I know."

            "Ready to go?" Sirius asked after a moment, "We have a few more trips down memory lane waiting for us at Remus'."

            "Remus'?" Harry asked.

            "He's letting us stay at his home.  Until we can find our own, at least."

            Harry nodded.  "Okay.  But I'd like a little while more.  Just a few more minutes."

            "Okay," Sirius said, smiling softly with understanding, "I'll be by the bike."

            Sirius walked out of the house and down the path, leaving Harry alone.  He looked around the house once more, then slumped on the three remaining steps.  That one year of his life he wished he knew best was the one year that was void from his memory.  At that moment, nothing in the world mattered but that year he couldn't remember.  Heaving a sigh, he buried his face in his hands, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead.  They remained poised there for a moment, then clink.

            Harry sat up, looking on the stairs a moment, then realizing his glasses must have fallen to the floor.  Grumbling slightly, he got on his hands and knees, his vision too blurry to find his glasses any other way.  They were right next to the side of the stairs.  Harry reached out for them, but stopped suddenly.  A tingling had just rushed up his spine.  It was the strangest feeling…  He closed his eyes, and could almost feel himself being lifted high into the air.  And a voice.  A playful, laughing voice.  "Hey there, little boy, what are you doing with my glasses?"

            Harry's eyes snapped open.  He was frozen a moment, unable to blink or move.  Then slowly, he picked his glasses, putting them on as he stood up.  A little shakily, he walked from the house and over to where Sirius was leaning on his bike.

            "Sirius?" Harry said as he got to him, "Did I ever play with my dad's glasses?"

            "Sure did," he answered with a chuckle, "You had quick reflexes as a kid.  Anytime I picked you up, I had to be careful because you were sure to grab hold of my hair the moment I wasn't looking.  James' glasses were your favorite.  Why do you ask?"

            Harry smiled, looking back at Godric's Hollow.  "I guess there are just some things you never forget."

~*~*~

A/N:  Sappy, yes, I know.  It just came out that way. ^-^

            Thank you my wonderful reviewers!!!

**naavi:**  Hail the mighty Thesaurus! ^-^  No, this isn't going to be a fic about Lily and James, though it will have many little stories that will appear in the L/J fic I'm writing. (I'm going to start posting that after I finish Harry's 7th year.)  Thanks!

**Sandrine Black:**  Thanks!

**Raven of Death:**  Heehee, you're always oh-so-very-interesting when you haven't had your frappichinno. ^_^  Thanks!

**phobiac:**  Eeps!  Don't hurt me! *puts up steel wall in front of computer screen*  Ha, now let's see you try and get to me!  Ah, shoot, now I can't see…  Ah well.  There are gonna be cliffies, though.  In fact, the 2nd to last chapter is a bit of a cliffie. (Really depends on how you look at it, though.) ^_^  Cliffies keep me alive!  I must write them!  Thanks!

**Jeanne:**  Thanks, Jess!  Yes, good guess.  As of right now, though, Lily isn't a seer.  I'll never say never, though. ^-^ Lily and James will have a lot to do with this fic, though.  Not in the real sense, but we'll find out a lot more about them.  And 24 years…  Well, the unnamed prophecy happened at the start of Lily and James' third year, which (according to my math, though it definitely isn't necessarily correct) would have been 1973.  24 years later, it's 1997, Harry's 7th year. ^-^ *scowls*  You can't ignore your fic forever!!!  WRITE!  No, I won't admit it. ^_^ Go ahead and try and guess who, though.  I dare ya. ^-^

**yerbroham:**  *grins*  I make no promises.  My muse is a very unstable person.  She goes off on little whims, and I'm just taken along for the ride.  I'll try and talk to her about keeping them alive, though. ^-^  Thanks, Pete!

**Allison:**  Pretty well, actually. ^-^  A very interesting analogy, Allison.  It cracked me up, making my siblings give me weird looks.  Thanks.  But I also must mention here that SOMEONE, who shall remain nameless (::cough:: Allison ::cough::) hasn't even given us a crumb in FOR-E-VER!  Tsk, tsk, tsk.

**JeezieParcheezie:**  Thanks!

**Star Chaser:**  Thanks!  Um, I withhold that answer.  Oh, I definitely can't answer that!  Yes, as much foreshadowing as I can fit. ^_^  And definitely more Malfoy! (I really used to hate the kid, but now I kinda like him!)  Ah, I so regret killing the Rileys.  At least all of them.  I wish I had left one alive. *sigh* Oh well.  Yah, suggestions!  I love reading those!  I don't know why, but I really do. ^_^

**Princess:**  Thanks!

**Moon Warrior:**  Thanks!  And speaking of new chapters…  Post yours!  Please!!! *puppy dog eyes*  I'm dying for more, and the evil gits not reviewing it are…well, evil gits.  Please post!!!!!!

**Moon princess:**  Thanks!

            I want to get to the exciting parts!  Crikey, I'll have to speed through the summer and get to… oops, not telling.

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady

PS-  I'm writing this as a desperate plea!  One of the ffn writers I read is holding back a chapter of her latest fic until she gets enough reviews!  So, I'm begging on hands and knees, go read Moon Warrior's "The Lili Chronicles Two:  Memory of the Future".  In fact, read the first of the Lili Chronicles, too!  They're so good, and she deserves many more reviews!!!


	3. Welcome to The Den

Dedication:  I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Pete, aka yerbroham, for giving me some inspiration.  I think you'll know how when you read it. ^_^  Sadly, though, this chapter didn't turn out that well, and it's an awful one to dedicate, but I hope you can forgive me, Pete!

Chapter 3:  Welcome to The Den

            After a long flight and a short ride, Sirius and Harry finally pulled up in front of a house.  At least, you might call it a house.  It looked more like one of the dreary mansions that always showed up in horror films.

            "This is it?" Harry asked, eying the fence of twisted black iron.

            Sirius nodded, a little grimly but with a smile.

            "You can't be serious."

            "Of course I am," Sirius answered, "I'm always Sirius."

            Harry chose to ignore the joke, studying the house instead.  It was huge, especially for just one person to live in.  The wood shingles that coated the walls and roof were gray and rotting.  Half the shutters were gone from the windows, and quite a number of panes had been shattered.  The porch looked more than a little worse for the wear, and Harry knew he wouldn't bet on the porch swing's ability to hold his weight.  On the top of the highest of the many gables was a wrought-iron weathervane in the shape of a dove.

            "Sirius, all you need to do is board up the windows and doors, and this could pass for the Shrieking Shack."

            "Yeah.  Remus' grandmum had very…interesting tastes.  You see, she left it to him in her will.  Since he can't afford any place of his own, he stays here."

            "And so we're staying here?"

            "Ah, I'm sure it's a cozy little place once you get used to it."

            Harry shook his head, but followed Sirius up the walk and to the door.  As Sirius rapped the old iron knocker, Harry noticed a wooden sign nailed up next to the door.  It was the only thing of the house that looked the slightest bit new, and on it, in black letters, was painted "The Den."

            From inside, they heard the clamoring of footsteps, skidding to a halt.  Then the door opened, and out peered Remus Lupin.

            "Padfoot, Harry!  Come in, come in!" he said, smiling as he held the door open, "I've been doing some last minute cleaning.  I've never had to use the guest rooms before.  Heh, I haven't even been in half the rooms in this place!"

            The two shuffled in, looking around a little warily.  The room they were in wasn't any better than the outside.  All the furniture was covered in sheets, and a wind blew in through the broken windows.

            "I never use this room either," Remus quickly pointed out, "There's another sitting room with all the windows intact.  Let's go there, shall we?"

            "Um, Remus, where's the loo?" Harry asked, looking around a little anxiously.

            "Not so fast, I get it first," Sirius quickly interrupted.

            Harry was mortified.  "But Sirius, you can't!  I've been holding it for ages, and if I don't go soon-"

            "Relax," Sirius smiled, looking to Remus, "I'm sure there's more than one bathroom in this big place."

            Instead of assuring him, Remus laughed.  "You must be joking, Padfoot.  Why, if I hadn't got that Defense Against the Dark Arts job, I'd still be using the outhouse.  Mamam never was one for progress…  By the way, Harry, it's up the stairs, second door on your left."

            Harry was gone before Remus had finished his sentence, leaving Sirius wide-eyed.  "Now what am I supposed to do?"

            Remus was silent a moment, thinking.  "Well, there's always the outhouse."

            He smiled at the look on Sirius' face, putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him to the sitting room.

            "You'll get used to it, Padfoot."

****

            Harry had just gotten his toothbrush and toothpaste from the medicine cabinet when Sirius stumbled into the small blue bathroom, shirtless, sleepless, and with a case of bed head worse than those even Harry had had.

            "Rise and shine," Harry grinned.

            "Shut up," his godfather mumbled back, groping around for the toilet.

            "Bad sleep?"

            "Are you kidding?!  I swear, my room must be on the creakiest corner of the house.  I haven't slept a wink in the three days we've been here."

            "Consider yourself lucky.  The wind comes up through my floorboards, so every morning when my feet hit the floor, they freeze on the spot."

            Sirius just leaned groggily over the toilet, trying to stay awake enough to hit his target.  Harry started searching for his toothbrush again, not realizing it was in his hand.  After Sirius had relieved himself, he seemed much more awake.

            "Thank God there are no women living here," Sirius said, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, "If any saw me like this, my reputation would be completely destroyed."

            "What, your reputation as a mass murderer?"

            Sirius gave Harry his I'm-your-godfather-so-watch-it look, then turned his attention back to the mirror.

            "Whoops, watch out, coming in," Remus said, opening the door and squeezing into the bathroom.

            "Remus, there's not enough room!" Sirius cried, almost tripping over the toilet as the door hit into him..

            "Hey, it's my bathroom, remember?"

            "Point taken," Sirius nodded, turning his attention to his reflection.

            "We doing anything today?" Harry asked, sticking his toothbrush in his mouth.

            "Job-hunting," Sirius answered, brushing his hair into place, "At least I am.  Of course, I should probably get a wand first."

            "You don't have a wand yet?" Remus said, his voice low and disbelieving.

            Sirius turned to him, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.  "Well, I…no."

            "Through all the work we've been doing at Hogwarts, you haven't had a wand?  How can you not have a wand?!"  Remus frowned slightly, putting his hands on his hips.

            "I'm used to doing things without it," Sirius said with a shrug, "Besides, I haven't had time to get one."

            "Haven't had—haven't had time to get one?" Remus said, as though the idiocy of the statement made it hard to repeat, "You've been practically living in Diagon Alley for the past week, and you couldn't find five minutes to go buy a wand?!"

            Sirius really looked sheepish now.  "Well, it's not like I can't take care of myself."

            Remus put his hand up to his face, a headache coming on.  "But it's not just you, Sirius.  What if the one time you needed you wand most, you didn't have it?  People could die.  Use you head for once, Padfoot."

            Harry, his toothbrush halted in his mouth, stared at them through the mirror, watching with a mixture of awe and horror as Sirius transformed from a guilty little kid to a furious full-grown wizard.

            "You look here, Moony," he said tensely, his eyes clouded over, "I am not just some careless little teenager.  I've survived thirty-seven years pretty damn well, including twelve of which were spent in Azkaban.  I think I have a pretty good idea about what's dangerous."

            "Well get a better one," Remus said, his eyes narrowing, "You're always jumping without knowing what into.  You can't do that anymore.  What if something happens to Harry?  You've got to protect him, Sirius!  I'd think you, of all people, would want to be armed and ready.  For Harry's sake, at least."

            "'ey, cub oft it.  I'b no' a widdle kib," Harry said turning toward them, little flecks of toothpaste flying out of his mouth.

            Remus and Sirius stared at him a moment, then burst out laughing.

            "Harry, I think you have yet to master the art of persuasion," Sirius smiled, adding, "Since Remus is so adamant that I get a wand, want to come with me?"

            "Sure," Harry said after spitting out the paste in his mouth, "Maybe you can get me those clothes you promised me three days ago."

            "Sheesh, did someone declare this Point-Out-Sirius'-Faults Day without telling me?  I feel left out," Sirius said, pouting slightly, then turning to Remus, "You gonna join us, Moony?"

            "I already have a job, remember?  Which I might be late for if I don't hurry," Remus said with a sigh, "I hate the muggle workplace.  I might catch up with you later, though.  I have a few errands to run.  Sirius, can I borrow your bike?  My car's been acting up, and I don't think my boss would like it if I just popped in."

            "Sure thing.  Keys are on the counter."

            "If he's got the bike, how are we going to get there?" Harry asked after Remus had left, putting his toothbrush back in his mouth.

            "Floo powder."

            Harry missed the sink and ended up spitting toothpaste all over the mirror.  Sirius was paralyzed with laughter.

            "Ah, Mr. Black.  I've been expecting you ever since I heard about your pardon," Mr. Ollivander said quietly as he appeared from the shop's back area.

            "A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Ollivander," Sirius smiled, shaking the man's hand, "I must say, you haven't changed a bit."

            "And I see that despite your outer transformation, you're still the same boy underneath.  Let's get to finding you a wand."

            Harry rather enjoyed being on the observing end of buying a wand.  Sirius, however, didn't have as much trouble finding a wand as Harry had.  The third one he picked up was his match, sending a stream of bright blue sparks across the room.

            "Ah, very good.  Dragon heartstring, like your last one; fifteen inches, that's two inches more than last time; and oak instead of maple.  Well, shall I wrap it?"

            "No, I'll just take it," Sirius smiled.

            Mr. Ollivander nodded, turning his clear eyes on Harry.  "It's been a number of years since I've seen you, too, Mr. Potter.  I must say, you've changed almost as drastically as Mr. Black.  And in more than one way…"

            Harry raised an eyebrow at that last statement, but Mr. Ollivander bid them good-bye before he could ask about it.

            "Never seemed quite right in the head, that Mr. Ollivander," Sirius smiled as they walked down Diagon Alley.

            "Yes, definitely."

            The woman in front of Sirius suddenly turned quickly around, as if she'd changed her mind about where she was going.  She and Sirius collided.

            "Sorry," Sirius quickly apologized.

            "No, the fault was-"  She stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she looked closer at Sirius.  Her mouth wide open, she backed away from and around him, staring, and then quickly looking down as she sped away.

            Sirius looked after her, rubbing his chin.  "I've been getting that response a lot lately," he mused as they walked on, "It's pretty discouraging.  I mean, I've made woman go speechless before, but never with fright."

            "Well, not everyone is going to forgive and forget easily."

            "It's still discouraging," Sirius sighed, "Listen, Harry.  Since I'm going to be going in and out of interviews all day, do you want to stay here?  I'm sure you'd have more fun in London than at the Den."

            "Sure.  Sounds like a plan."

            "Good.  Here, take some extra floo powder for whenever you want to go home," Sirius said, handing him a leather pouch, "Be back for dinner, okay?"

            Harry nodded.

            "Oh, and one last thing," Sirius said with a smile, producing a second pouch, "Buy yourself some clothes."

            Harry stared at Sirius a moment, then down at the pouch, then back at Sirius.  "But I don't know what kids wear…"

            "A shirt and pants," Sirius laughed, "Ask the clerk if you're really desperate for help, but I think you can manage."

            Saying good-bye, Sirius disappeared with a pop.  After exploring Diagon Alley for an hour or so, Harry was feeling a little bored.  He knew Diagon Alley better than even Hogwarts by now.  However, he never had much of a chance to look at muggle London.  So, for the first time since his trip to the Rileys, he stepped out of the wizarding world, becoming just another face in the crowd.  Actually there wasn't much of a crowd.  Though it could hardly ever be called quiet, London wasn't as busy during midmorning.

            For a while, Harry just enjoyed walking up and down the streets watching people.  When he finally went into a store to buy clothes, he ended up looking around helplessly for about an hour and then just buying whatever looked good at that moment.  After lunch, he once again took to the street, just watching people be people.  It was a recent hobby he'd been picking up.  After all, you never knew what you could see or hear by pretending you're a fly on the wall.

            It was some time, however, before he got the feeling that someone was watching him.  He looked over his shoulder and there, among the crowd, was a figure dressed in a dark cloak.  He thought this a little odd, but shook it off.  After all, he'd seen at the Quidditch Cup how strangely some wizards could dress even around muggles.  He walked down the street quite a ways more, and again felt the sensation that someone was staring at him.  When he turned around, again, there was that same wizard.  The thing that unnerved Harry the most was that the wizard's face was hidden by the cloak's hood.

            'He's not following you, he's just walking down the same street,' Harry told himself.

            All the same, he had to be sure.  At the next crosswalk, he took a left.  When he glanced back, he saw the strange wizard do the same thing.  Now he felt worried.  Harry quickened his footsteps, and at the same time became aware of someone behind him quickening their steps.  He didn't have to turn around to know whom.  His heart seemed to be pounding in his head, barring him from thinking clearly.  The footsteps behind him seemed to be getting closer.

            Before he knew it, Harry was at an all out run.  He pushed through the crowd, apologizing constantly, but getting rude and disgusted looks all the same.  A few people yelled at him to slow down, but all he could here were the rushed footsteps of his pursuer.  He didn't know where he was going, and didn't care at that, just anywhere to get away.  The footsteps were getting closer, and he was sure that at any second he'd feel a hand grab the back of his shirt.  So Harry did something he hadn't done in a long while:  he panicked.

            With a swift push of his foot, he darted out into the street.  The honk of a horn came from Harry's right and he spun around, frozen as a car skidded to a halt in front of him.

            "What do you think you're doing!" the female driver yelled from her seat.

            "S-sorry.  I…I wasn't thinking."

            "Well that's pretty obvious.  Just be careful next time, okay?  Darting into traffic isn't a smart thing to do."

            Harry nodded, stepping out of her way and into the median.  He looked back at the sidewalk, trying to spot the wizard in the dark cloak, but no luck.  He'd vanished.  Another honk of a horn made Harry realize where he was, and he quickly ran to the sidewalk, and continued running until he'd gotten to the Leaky Cauldron.

~*~*~

ATTENTION:  teen.com folded, so my email address has changed!  It is now:  adyremard@yahoo.com    If anyone has tried to email me since about December 21st, I probably didn't get it or get to see it. (A nasty surprise to come back from vacation and see you have no email addy.)  I hope I didn't miss anything important…

A/N:  *sobs*  Oh, what an awful chapter!  Such evil writer's block it caused!  My muse was on vacation, I swear!  You know how kids sometimes swallow pennies and such, and then the coins turn up a few days later?  Well, trying to get this chapter out felt like I would a few days after swallowing a 15-foot poll.  Uh-huh, not a pleasant feeling.

            Another thing:  please don't review saying something like "London is never busy!" or "London is always busy, even midmorning!"  I-do-not-know and, at about 2 am, I-do-not-CARE! *zonks out over keyboard for a second, then wakes with a smile*

            Okay, my thank-yous!

**1:**  Sure thing. ^_^  Thanks.

**Dumbledore's True Love:**  Thanks!  Oh, I hope they don't have restrictions on how many authors and stories we can have as our favorites.  I have too many! ^_^

**SimonJumper:**  Thank you. ^_^

**yerbroham:**  I can take a hint.  Don't worry, I don't plan on having very many flashbacks.  After all, how much could you remember from being 1?  The earliest memory I have is at 2, standing on a diving board w/ a little pink tube. ^_^  Odd, eh?  Anywasy, thank you, Pete!  Especially for the inspiration.  Not only the wand thing, but the bathroom scene.  After reading "(like morning rituals such as bathing, brushing teeth, & etc.)" from your review, I imagined three guys trying to share one bathroom.  One of the few parts I actually enjoyed writing in this chapter.  Oh, thanks, I'm glad that chapter didn't seem to drag.  I guess when images pop in my mind for the more exciting scenes later on, I just forget that it's JK's characters, not really so much the plot, that makes reading her stuff so enjoyable. (Though plot is always good, too…)

**Jeanne:**  Ah, I'm not cool. *pouts*  Oh wait, I'm not supposed to care about that. *grins*  (Yeah, odd mood, I know.)  I SO thought I'd reviewed chapter 3!  I'm so sorry!  Will you ever forgive me? *puppy dog eyes*

**Sandrine Black:**  Thank you!

**terrence:**  You know what, I never really thought about the year Voldemort came into power.  1970…  Hm, I could use that… ^_^  Thanks!

**jessica r.:**  Good suggestion.  You'd think I'd learn by now not to write something and make it final until I'm absolutely sure. (Which I never am since, unlike JKR, I don't have millions of ravenous fans willing to wait centuries for my stuff to come out.)  Thanks!

**Lady Grizabella:**  Ah, thanks.  Oh, I so need to read the rest of your Draco series!  WHY are the holidays so busy?!  I haven't even finished my homework, and I go back to school on Wednesday. *cries*

**Lupin's Niece AJ:**  *hugs AJ 'til her eyes bug out*  Thank you!

**Neville33:**  Wow, thanks.  Er…yeah.  The Hermione-Animagus question.  Right now, I've no idea.  She never told me.  But I hope it'll be brought up in this fic! ^_^

**jona:**  You are so NOT a terribly awful person!  Well, as long as you keep posting your chapters, that is. ^_^  Ah, yes, "Flick".  I have the whole story written, but I want to revamp it, but time is not on my side. *sigh*  And I'd hoped to catch up over the holidays…  Thanks!

**Kelly:**  Thanks!

**NALLEN RIDDLE:**  Thanks!  Draco will come…sometime.  I'm not sure when, but he'll be an integral char.

**Princess:**  Thanks!

**sweets:**  Thanks!  Oh, don't tell me you've updated!  That'll get me all depressed, because I can't read it now since it's getting close to 3 in the morning (ug, my parents would kill me if they knew), and I can't read it tomorrow since the time I don't spend at a party, I'll be spending it doing my homework (yeah, Happy New Year from my teachers. :P), and then I'll be zonked the next day and finishing my homework, and then bloodsucking school's back, and I haven't done my 5 hours of service for NHS and so I'll probably be kicked out, and I need to write to a whole bunch of blasted colleges. *groans*  Sorry your "thank you" turned into more of a "listen to me whine."  I'll get to your fanfics, I know I will!  Not rain, nor snow, nor teacher beast shall stop me!

**Liz:**  Why, thank you!  I'd always hoped Azar wasn't a Mary Sue (though the definition of a Mary Sue has always been a mystery to me…).  *grins*  Oh, I'd so love to read your stories!  I'll find time, I swear!  *sigh*  If only I could stop time for 24 hours, so I could read all the fanfiction that I need to read.  Evil school, taking up my precious reading time…

**Lady Liberty:**  Thanks!

**Raven of Death:**  *laughs*  Thank you!  Reading your reviews always makes me smile, which is nice at…*checks watch*  2:30!!!  Oi…  I need a cappachinno of ozzz!

            Did anyone hear that JKR left 15 chapters out of book 1?  FIFTEEN!  She said they gave away too much.  Boy, would I love to get my hands on those!  Actually, no.  Finding out what happens, w/o reading it in context, would probably be like getting all the money in the world:  I'd just end up disappointed.

            Yep, well, frazzled Ady just has a few more words to say.  I hope you all had happy holidays!  (I could pull a Krusty the Klown right here, but am too tired to.)

            Good night, be excellent to each other, and party on, dudes! (Uh, no, I'm not just weird.  Watch Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure and you'll know what I'm talking about.)

            -Ady


	4. The Date and the Dead

Chapter 4:  The Date and the Dead

            "Third day in a row!" Sirius cried, plopping down in a chair after apparating into the Den's sitting room, "What is with these people?!"

            "Welcome to my world," Remus smiled weakly, his voice not without a hint of bitterness.

            "They don't even give me a chance!  Every interviewer shook her head, every receptionist told me to leave.  I was even turned away by some doormen.  Doormen!!!"

            "So, did you get a job?" Harry smiled.  Sirius whacked him over the head with a pillow.

            "I think you have to face it, Sirius," Remus said, sighing, "You'll have to look for a muggle job."

            "That's just it!  I have been," Sirius said, suddenly getting much quieter, "Even they won't consider me.  As long as my name's Sirius Black, I'm hopeless."

            "I told you that at least once a week at Hogwarts, and you're just realizing it now?"

            Sirius looked up at Remus, trying to contain a smile.  "I'm trying very hard to be depressed right now, and you're ruining the mood."

            "Well, I'm glad then.  Nothing good ever came of being depressed, except some very dismal poetry, and since you couldn't write to save your life, being depressed isn't an occupation you should take up."

            Sirius shrugged, giving a short laugh.  "I wonder if I could teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.  That position always seems to be open."

            "Not anymore," Remus said firmly, "Catherine's going on her third year, and don't you jinx it.  I'd hate for something to happen to her."

            "Something always is happening to them, isn't it?  Like our first one had that run-in with that stink bomb."

            "And the one who swindled all those muggles.  Then there was…  Well, you know what happened to him," Remus said, looking a little uneasy, "The one after went to Norway and never came back, I hear.  Then there was that whole scandal with that other one and the Arithmacy teacher running off together.  Then, of course, Harry started, and they didn't have much luck there either.  Hey, whatever happened to the one we had in our sixth year?"

            Sirius cleared his throat, looking down at his hands with a bit of a grin.

            "Oh," Remus said, eyes going a bit wide, "Now I remember.  Whew, what an interesting day that was."

            "What happened?" Harry asked eagerly.

            "Let's just say you shouldn't turn your back on Sirius when he's armed and mad at you."

            "Hey, it's not my fault he didn't block it!  He was the teacher; he was supposed to be good at defense," Sirius said indignantly, "Besides, he tried to make a fool of me."

            "No, no, correction, he did make a fool of you.  But that's besides the point.  It was your stunt that made him retire."

            "He was too old for the job anyways."

            "You want to talk old, talk about Professor Binns," Harry smiled.

            "Old Pushing Up Daisies Binns is still there?" Sirius asked, amazed, "Well, I guess it's not that surprising.  It always did seem his goal to bore as many kids as possible.  The most exciting thing he ever did was die.  Scared our class out of their minds when he floated through the door.  You never expect your teacher to kick the bucket mid-year."

            "Wait, he died when you were at Hogwarts?"

            "Yes.  And I'd never heard a seventh year boy scream so high pitched," Remus smiled, turning to Sirius.

            "I wouldn't be talking, Moony.  As I remember, you knocked over a few desks in your attempt to get away."

            Remus made a face.  Suddenly, the old clock on the mantel struck three.

            "Oh, we've got to stop doing this," Remus groaned, "I'll be dead on my feet tomorrow at work.  Let's get to bed, 'kay?  You can have the bathroom first, Harry."

            Knowing this meant that he had about thirty seconds before Sirius would be pounding on the door, begging to get to the toilet, Harry hurried upstairs.  After quickly getting ready for bed, he came out of the bathroom to find the hallway still dark.  A little curious as to why they weren't up there yet, he headed back downstairs.  Sirius and Remus' voices floated out of the sitting room, along with the flicking light of the fire in the fireplace.  Instead of walking in, Harry listened quietly.  He always enjoyed listening in on conversations, at least those about him.

            "Harry's right up there with the best of them," Remus was saying, "Very smart."

            "James would be so disappointed," Sirius smiled, leaning against the mantelpiece.

            "Are you kidding?  James was head boy, Sirius.  I'd imagine he'd be very pleased."

            "I guess.  I just never thought of James as smart."

            Remus leaned forward in the couch, his elbows on his knees and his hands hanging loosely.  "Pigs don't know their pigs."

            "What?" Sirius said, laughing but looking very confused.

            "You're smart, so James didn't seem smart to you.  Just like you were a good flyer, so you could make fun of James' flying.  By the way, you've seen Harry fly, right?"

            "A bit.  He's amazingly good.  Better than James ever was, you have to admit that."

            "A chaser flies much different than a seeker.  But yes, I've never seen anything like it," Remus nodded, leaning back into the cushions.

            "He's so much like them, but so different at the same time," Sirius said, "How am I going to do it, Remus?  Being a father is hard enough starting out, but hopping in after seventeen years…"

            "Sirius," Remus said, smiling a little condescendingly, "You are a great father."

            "Not as good as James would have been."

            Remus opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

            "Do you ever think about them?" Sirius asked, suddenly very focused on the mantel clock.

            "All the time," Remus said quietly.

            Sirius was silent a moment.  "Do you think we should tell him?"

            "No," Remus said, shaking his head, somehow knowing exactly what Sirius was talking about, "I agree with Dumbledore.  Not until he's eighteen."

            "I don't get it," Sirius said, pushing against the mantel, "Why all this secrecy?  They're Harry's parents.  Doesn't he have a right to know?"

            "Yes.  But some things are hard to tell.  Would you-"

            "No, I wouldn't want to be the one to tell him," Sirius admitted, "But I just thought he should know this year, when he joins the Order."

            "Harry?  Join the resistance?" Remus said slowly, "You're joking, right?"

            "Why would I be joking?"

            "He's not yet seventeen, Sirius."

            "So…" Sirius said, knitting his brow in confusion, "You can't say he's too young.  Harry's dealt with more than we have and probably ever will.  He's responsible for his age.  For any age, in fact.  You said yourself that these kids have to face it."

            "Face it, yes, but not welcome it.  I know it sounds a paradox, but I don't want him to deal with the battle yet.  He shouldn't have to grow up so quickly, grow up more than he already has been forced to.  Let him be a kid for once."

            Harry edged away from the door and silently back up the stairs.  He stood at the top of them, staring at the wall.  Taking a deep breath, he looked back toward the sitting room.

            "I'm done!" he yelled.

            "It's about time!" Sirius called back.

            "I'm going to bed.  Good night!"

            "Good night!" two voices returned.

            Harry walked into his room, but didn't turn on the light.  He silently slid onto his bed, pulling his knees up tight.  So they were keeping a secret from him.  He wasn't really surprised.  All his life he wanted little more than to know about his parents.  The Dursleys told him lies.  Everyone else simply didn't tell him anything.  At least, they wouldn't until he was eighteen.

            "Eighteen," he whispered to Hedwig resting in her cage, "I wish that was tomorrow.  I wish that was now."

            Why the wait?  It seemed a touchy subject, but he couldn't imagine why.  Should he ask them?  Could they avoid the question, or would they finally tell him?  Of course, there was a slightly stronger question on his mind:

            Did he even want to know?

****

            "What?!"

            Sirius' eyes went wide.  "Whoa, Moony.  I asked Catherine Connerly to dinner tonight.  What's the problem?"

            "Problem?!" Remus groaned, "Sirius, look at this place!  I can't let Catherine see it like this!"

            "Well, it isn't the cheeriest of places, but I don't see-"

            "No time to argue," Remus said, holding up a hand, "Sirius, go to the store and buy…something.  You're going to have to cook."

            "You kidding?  I'll set the house on fire."

            "I've got too much cleaning to do to cook."

            "I can do it," Harry offered.

            Remus and Sirius looked at him, a little surprised.

            "I can cook pretty well.  I'm one of the best in my class."

            "They teach cooking at Hogwarts?" Sirius said incredulously.

            "They pamper you," Remus said, shaking his head, "I had to learn the hard way.  Well, at least that's something.  Harry, check the kitchen.  If you need anything more, get Sirius to take you to the store.  In the meantime, Sirius, you can start fixing the windows.  I'm going to clean."

            "You didn't make this much fuss over us," Sirius frowned a bit.

            "Well, Catherine is a little different than you two.  Now get going!  We don't have much time!"

            Sirius looked at Remus a little suspiciously, but quickly shook it off and hurried to fix the windows.  Harry set off to cooking a good meal, knowing both Sirius and Remus would be anxious for it to be perfect.  However, he couldn't get rid of the gnawing in his stomach.  Sirius, Remus, and Professor Connerly all in the same room…  Sirius was already giving dark looks.  There was no telling what might happen.

            "That was good, Remus," Connerly said, leaning back in her chair, a now empty plate in front of her.

            "I'd like to take credit for it, Catherine, but Harry was the chef for today."

            "Really?" she smiled, "Well, I'm impressed, Harry.  Someday you'll make someone a very happy wife."

            "Thank you, Professor," he said, though going a little red.

            "It's 'Catherine' here, Harry.  I'm not your teacher right now."

            He simply nodded.

            "So how's the job hunt, Sirius?" she asked, turning to the man on her right.

            "Not so good.  I still have little hope of getting anything anytime soon."

            They soon were deep in conversation, leaving Harry and Remus fidgeting uneasily.

            "I'll clear the table," Remus told no one, standing up and picking up two plates.

            Realizing he was left alone, Harry grabbed the other two plates and headed after Remus.  He walked into the kitchen, but came to a slow stop.  Remus stood in front of the sink, his hands on either side of it and shoulders hunched, his head hanging.  Slowly, he looked up out the window, staring blankly outside and not even realizing Harry was there.

            "What was I thinking?" he muttered quietly, "How could she prefer me over Mr. Sirius Black.  Debonair extraordinaire," he added, giving a half-hearted laugh.

            Harry backed out, then walked in again with a lot more noise.

            "I thought I'd help you," he said, walking over to Remus.

            "Thank you, Harry." Remus tried to smile appreciatively, but his eyes still held pain.

            They washed the dishes off in silence.  When they reentered the dining room, Professor Connerly was laughing very loudly.

            "So there you two are," she smiled as they walked up, "I thought you had gone off and left us."

            "Nope, still here," Remus smiled, "Why don't we go into the sitting room?"

            "Sure thing," Sirius said, pulling Connerly's chair out so she could get up.

            After Remus got them a few drinks, they sat on the couch and armchairs, talking and watching the fire.  The topics of conversation flowed easily from one to another, like water in a country brook.

            "This room is beautiful, Remus.  Did you decorate it, or is it another of Harry's undertakings?" Connerly smiled.

            "Nope, this one's my fault."

            "Cooking, cleaning, decorating.  Remus is just a little homemaker," Sirius laughed, giving Remus a joking shove.

            Remus smiled, but Harry recognized the expression on his face.  He'd seen it on Ron in his fourth year, the night Harry had been declared a Hogwarts champion and all of Gryffindor was celebrating.  Harry suddenly felt very nervous.

            However, it wasn't until much later, when Connerly had left, that something happened to be worried about.

            "Well, that was fun," Sirius said, flopping onto the couch, "See, Moony?  No problem."

            Remus didn't answer.  He was standing by the mantelpiece, staring into the fire.

            "You two were quiet tonight," Sirius commented, trying to get rid of the silence.

            "Well, I think you did enough talking for all of us, Sirius," Remus said hollowly, "I especially liked that crack about me being a 'little homemaker'."

            "Huh?"

            "Nothing…" Remus muttered.

            "You said something.  Are you mad at me?"

            "My, you're sharp."

            "What?  What'd I do?"

            "I'm just going to shut my mouth now before I say something I'll regret."

            "Look, you said I did too much talking.  I'm not talking now; I'm listening."

            "Well, there's always a first now, isn't there?" Remus said, glaring.

            Harry bit his lip.  Sirius' eyes had just clouded over, and Harry was sure he saw the fire sputter.

            "I don't know what your problem is, Remus, but get over it," he growled.

            "I have been.  For seven years at Hogwarts, I got over it.  For three years afterwards, I got over it.  I'm sick of getting over it.  I've always turned the other cheek, but no more.  Sirius, back off!"

            Sirius stared at him a moment, looking as though he'd just swallowed a goldfish.  Then he blinked, and the anger came back.  "Back off what?  You're making no sense!"

            "You've always got every woman who comes along, but not this time.  Catherine is mine!"

            "Well, did you ever think she might prefer me over you?"

            "You just can't stand that someone might choose me over you," Remus said in a low voice, "Get used to it.  You're in the world of outcasts now."

            The fire blew out this time.  Sirius walked slowly up to Remus until they were standing face to face.  The glower on Remus' face didn't waver a bit.

            "I may be hopeless," Sirius said in an undertone, "but never call me an outcast.  I'm not like you."

            To Harry, it felt like the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

            "Okay, Sirius," Remus said quietly, "If you're not an outcast, I guess you shouldn't live like one."

            "Maybe I should go then."

            "Maybe you should," Remus whispered warningly.

            "Fine," Sirius said tersely, "I'll leave tomorrow."

            "Fine."

            "Fine."

            "Fine!"

            With that, Remus stormed from the room.  For a while, Sirius paced up and down the room like a caged lion, then he too tore out of the room.  The fire immediately erupted back into life.  Harry heard footsteps storming up the stairs, and then the slamming of a door.  He just sat there, lost as to what, or more accurately why it had happened.

****

            Harry woke up early the next morning; the sun had just come up.  He stared at the ceiling for a while before remembering what had happened.  Suddenly, he heard a crash from outside his door.  He quickly hopped out of bed, yanking it open.  There was a suitcase in the hallway.

            "Sirius?  Remus?" he called out.

            Sirius suddenly came out of his bedroom, another suitcase in his hand.  He looked slightly frazzled and had circles under his eyes.

            "Harry, glad you're up.  Get packing, we have to go."

            Harry couldn't believe it.  "Sirius, this is stupid.  We're not leaving over a fight."

            "It's not that," Sirius said, shaking his head, "Remus and I have…business to take care of.  I've talked with the Weasleys and they said they'd be happy to have you over for the rest of the summer.  I'm sorry it's so quick, but we just got the owl this morning."

            Harry blinked slowly.  "What?"

            "Just pack.  We have to go soon."

            In about a half hour, all three men were packed and ready.  Sirius and Remus were still on edge, not speaking to each other if they could help it, but it didn't stop them from getting things done quickly.

            "Harry, you'll take the floo powder.  I'll meet you there.  Remus is going on ahead," Sirius said, slightly inclining his head to the man behind him.

            After an uncomfortable trip through the floo system, holding tight to his trunk, Harry burst into the Burrow's living room, barely managing to stay standing.  Dusting off his robes, he looked around at the familiar room.  It had changed little since the last time he'd seen it.  The same knickknacks and books covered the mantel and shelves, the same old frumpy furniture around the wobbly coffee table.  It was strangely quiet, though, but what could he expect so early in the morning.

            "Harry, dear," said a cheery voice.

            He quickly looked up and saw the welcoming figure of Mrs. Weasley standing in her nightgown.  Harry didn't know why he did it, but the next thing he knew he'd rushed over to her, being enveloped in her warm, comforting embrace.

            "It's so great to see you," he murmured.

            "The pleasure is all mine," she said quietly, "I'm afraid no one else is up yet.  Fred and George are staying over for a while."

            "Great."

            With a sudden 'pop!', Sirius appeared in the living room.

            "Hello, Molly," Sirius said, giving her a hug.

            "It's nice to see you, Sirius."

            "I'm sorry I can't stay longer, but with the rush-"

            "You don't need to explain here, Sirius," Mrs. Weasley said, holding up a hand, "I understand."

            Sirius nodded, smiling.  "Well, Harry, I have to go.  I hope you have a good summer."

            "I will, Sirius.  Good-bye."

            "Good-bye," Sirius said, hugging his godson.

            He disappeared with the same 'pop!'

            "Well, Harry, want to get to bed?"

            "No, I'm not tired."

            "Well, how about a cup of tea and some breakfast?"     

            "That'd be nice."

            So Harry and Mrs. Weasley talked while she cooked.  She had just finished the eggs and bacon when down the stairs stumbled a tall, redheaded figure, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight of the kitchen.  He stopped at the foot of the stairs, peering into kitchen with a perplexed look on his tired face.  He looked first at Harry, then his eyes slowly traveled to Mrs. Weasley, then back to Harry.

            "Harry?" Ron finally said, his voice hoarse with sleep.

            "Hey, Ron," he smiled.

            Ron squinted at him again, cocking his head to the side.  "Were you here last night?"

            "He came this morning, honey," Mrs. Weasley said, guiding him to the table.

            "Oh.  Okay.  Hey, Harry."

            Ron was slowly becoming alert when two other figures came down the stairs, looking as worse for the wear as their younger brother.

            "What's going on?  Why are you up so early?" George mumbled, sitting at the table with his eyes still shut.  His glasses were perched precariously on his nose, and Harry was sure they'd fall to the ground at any moment.

            "It's Harry," Fred yawned, his long hair sticking up any place it pleased.

            "Looks like a couple of rats decided to build a nest on top of your head, Fred," Harry said with a laugh.

            "Ah, shut-up," Fred smiled, ruffling Harry's own untidy mane.

            "How's your summer been?" Ron asked.

            Harry summed it up pretty quick, though using something more creative than, "Okay."  When Mr. Weasley came down, he was already dressed and fully aware of the visitor that had arrived that morning.  The rest of the day was uneventful.  That is, uneventful for the Weasley household.  It was always lively to Harry.

            It wasn't until a few weeks later that something anomalous happened.  Since Fred and George stayed in their room and Harry was less than eager to sleep in the other two now vacated bedrooms, he slept in a sleeping bag on Ron's bedroom floor.  It was there one night, those many days later, that Harry sat up late, thinking.  He hadn't gotten a letter from Sirius in a while.  It was understandable, especially if they had to be careful about giving away their position.  In a way, Harry was glad he wasn't part of it all.  He'd always thought he had more than his share of troubles, but Sirius and Remus seemed to have bucket loads more.

            Suddenly a dim light went on.  It surprised Harry, for he thought Ron was fast asleep.  He lifted his head slightly, wondering what was keeping the boy up.  What he saw made his blood freeze.  Over his friend's bed leaned a…a figure.  Though his vision was blurred through lack of glasses, there was no mistaking that the glowing light of bluish-white was shaped as a human.

            "Ron…" he whispered hoarsely, "Ron…"

            No movement came from the bed, but the glowing figure seemed to have heard him, for it turned his way.  Harry felt his heart leap into his throat as slowly, almost cautiously, the figure started walking toward him.

            "Ron!" he tried to yell as his hand scrambled for his glasses, but his voice failed him.

            As the being got closer and its features more distinct, Harry got a sinking feeling that he recognized it.  His hand finally snatched up his glasses and he thrust them on just as the figure reached toward him.

            "Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!"

            With a swiftness that surprised even himself, Harry tumbled out of his sleeping bag and leapt up.  His feet did their own thinking and dashed him through the nearest door, only wanting to get away from…that.

            "Harry?" Ron called, switching on a light, "Harry?"

            "In-in here," came a slightly high-pitched voice.

            With a mixture of curiosity and confusion, Ron opened the bathroom door.

            "Uh, might I ask why you ran into the bathroom screaming?" he said, smiling slightly, "You didn't have to go that bad, did you?"

            Harry, however, wasn't in a joking mood.  "Did you see him?"

            "No.  Who?"

            "Percy."

            "What?"

            "It was a ghost," Harry said, taking a deep breath, "Percy's ghost."

~*~*~

A/N:  *dramatic music plays*  Dun, dun, dun!  Bet ya didn't see that coming!

            I know, I know.  Many of you are probably gonna say, "But James was a seeker!"  Well, JKR once said in an interview that he was a chaser, and so I stick to that, no matter what the movie said.

            Also, please no comments about Sirius and Remus' fight being a lovers' quarrel.  It wasn't.  Period.  Some people!  Exclamation point.  Who knows?  Question mark.  New paragraph. (Guess who's been watching Golden Girls again? ^_^)

            And I'm pleased to announce my muse came back by the start of school term!  Apparently she only likes to hit me w/ inspiration in the middle of math class, not when I'm sitting at the computer ready to write. ^_^

            Well, thank you all for the great reviews! (Not that the last chapter deserved them…)

Kelly:  Ah, don't hate cliffies.  What'd they ever do to you? ^-^  Thanks! 

**Jeanne:**  It's that Allisonitis disease, I swear! ^_^  Heehee!  Thanks, Jess!

**John:**  Thanks!

**Mrs. Grim:**  Exactly!  I even wrote a poem about how if my story stinks, blame my muse, but if it's great, blame me. ^_^  Very handy people, er, things, those muses.  Thanks!

**Sandrine Black:**  Thanks, Sandrine!

**Raven of Death:**  Happy (belated) Birthday!!!  Hope your exams went well.  Don't you just love those things? (Notice how my voice is dripping with sarcasm…)  Ooh, Krispy Kremes… Don't make me hungry!!!  *laughs*  Thanks!

**Dumbledore's True Love:**  Sh!  Not telling. ~_^  Happy New Year to you, too! (even though it's getting near mid-January…)  I thought of having him get hit by the car, but decided I was too lazy. :P  Thanks!

**abbey:**  Heeheehee…  Hey, there's always room for a sequel. ^-^  Thank you!

**SuNnY GuRL:**  *grins*  Thank you!

**Nallen Riddle:**  Thanks!

**owlbook2000:**  Yeah, I've got a lot of work to do on this fic.  Ah, don't even try to teach me England English!  I'll never learn. ^_^  And you'll never be able to make me call a sweater a jumper! (I wore cutesy pink polka-dotted jumpers as a child, so I try not picturing Harry in one. ^_^)  Thanks for the review!

**Julia:**  Thanks!  And Harry's not necessarily fashionly ignorant.  He just wore his cousin's old clothes for all his life. (Need I remind you of the brown sweater with orange puffballs? *shudders*)

**Princess:**  *mwa-ha-ha*  No telling when (or if) we'll find out who that guy was…  Thanks! ^-^

**Rachy:**  Thanks, Rachy!

**Lady Aquila:**  Thank you!

**Lupin's Niece AJ:**  Ha, thanks!

**yerbroham:**  *falls off chair laughing*  Oh, sure.  I dedicate a chapter to you, and you complain about the fact it has a toilet scene. *grins*  I literally burst out laughing when I read that.  Ah, thanks, I liked that line, too. ^-^  *blushes a Weasley red*  I'll just cut any attempts at being modest and say  THANK YOU!!! ^_^

**jona:**  Barney?  What's a barney? (other than a big purple dinosaur, of course. ^_^)  Thanks, and yes, the more of your fics, the merrier! ^_^  Mm, reading…I think I'll take your advice on that one, doctor. ^-^

**Sophie Black:**  Thank you!  You're English is very good.  It's a hard enough language to learn as a first language, but as a second… I applaud you!  I just wish I could speak French, but I can't.  I learned Spanish instead. ^_^

**sweets:**  *gapes*  You…you signed in?  O.O *grins*  Thanks!

**Mandy:**  Thanks, Mandy!  And never, I repeat, NEVER call your stories dumb!  That's rule number one in my creative writing class at school.  You'd be surprised.  Many of the people in that class say their stories are dumb, but when they read them out loud to the class, they're excellent!  Have confidence, and keep writing!

**princess:**  Thanks!  I'm writing more whenever school allows time. ^_^

**Starry Night:**  Heehee, nope, can't tell.  (To tell the truth, I'm not even positive myself, though I have an idea…)  Thanks!

            Well, thank you all!  I love reading reviews so much, and I'm glad you take the time to read and tell me what you think of my work!

            Until next time, be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	5. Come and Gone

Chapter 5:  Come and Gone

            Ron's face was suddenly void of emotion.  "Don't joke like that, Harry," he said quietly.

            "Ron, I swear I'm not joking.  Percy was here, in your room."

            "How could he be here?" Ron said, though not to Harry, "Are you sure?"

            "Oh yeah," Harry said, nodding as if he would never stop, "I'd know Percy anywhere.  And I'm pretty sure I know a ghost when I see one."

            "Were you-"

            "I wasn't dreaming.  Or hallucinating.  This was real."

            The two boys stared into the room, the light from Ron's lamp creating shadows and making it all the more menacing, however unbelievable it is that a room of bright orange could look menacing.  Slowly, they walked in, each step creaking.

            "Percy?" Ron said, "Percy, are you there?"

            There was no answer.  They stood in the middle of the room, back-to-back, so they could see every crevice at once.  Even the crickets outside were silent.

            "This is so strange," Ron said quietly, "I don't know how to feel.  I mean, to see Percy again, it would…it would be great.  But as a ghost?  And, well, he's Percy, after all."

            "Have a little more respect for the dead, Ronald."

            Harry didn't even get a chance to turn around to see the origin of the voice.  Ron gave a cry, half from fear, half from surprise, and stepped backward, tripping over his feet and falling, pulling Harry down in the process.  They crashed to the ground, Harry now face-to-face with the floor.

            "Percy, you idiot!  Don't sneak up on me like that!"

            "It's nice to see you, too, Ron."

            Harry spun around, looking up to see the bluish-white glowing figure of Percy Weasley.  Ron didn't move from the floor, and was now gaping.  Apparently his first reaction had been more out of habit, and now the shock was settling in.

            "It's you," he whispered, "You're… you're… a ghost."

            "Yes, these things do tend to happen once you die," Percy said, smiling condescendingly.

            "But…  You can't be a ghost!  You're supposed to be…gone."  Ron seemed near the verge of tears.  "Why did you come back?"

            Percy opened his mouth as if to answer, but stopped short.  His forehead furrowed, as if he was thinking of a question that had no answer.  He quickly shook it off, however, looking Ron straight in the eye.

            "Never you mind," he said, putting his hands on his hips, "I'm here on important business."

            Ron finally stood up, his eyes never leaving Percy.  Harry stayed on the floor; he wasn't sure yet if he trusted his legs to hold him up.  Percy and Ron looked at each other in silence a moment, then suddenly Ron's hand flew out, cutting right across Percy's waist.  Both cried out in surprise, jumping back slightly.

            "What'd you do that for?!" Percy yelled, somewhere between anger and shock.

            "I…I wanted to make sure you were real," Ron answered, holding his hand, "You're so cold."

            "Well, that too tends to happen when you die," Percy smiled weakly.

            "How come you waited this long?" Ron said, a little venom in his voice, "And why'd you have to come to me, of all people?"

            "I figured you'd be the best to come to.  Mom and Dad might have a heart attack, and Fred and George…well.  And could you imagine what Ginny would have done if I went up to her?"

            Ron's eyes went wide.  "Ginny?  Ginny's dead, Percy."

            "Dead?" Percy said, his voice barely audible, "How…how can she be dead?  She-she was fine last week."

            "Last week?  Perc, she died two years ago.  Right after…you did."

            "But I only died a week ago!" Percy exclaimed in a bit of a panic.

            Ron and Harry looked at each other.

            "Percy, you died almost two years ago.  During my fifth year.  I'm going into my seventh now…"

            Percy sat down on the bed, running his hands through his hair.  "Two years…  It hasn't felt like two weeks…"

            Harry stood up, he and Ron looking at each other uncertainly.  How do you comfort a ghost?

            "Where have you been, Percy?" Harry said, trying to change the subject.

            "My…my room," he answered, shaking his head.

            "Your room?!  You've been in your room for two years?" Ron exclaimed.

            "Yes.  Well, no… I don't know," Percy said, a look of extreme confusion passing over his face, "I…can't remember."

            Ron looked as if the wind had just been knocked out of him.  "You can't remember?  Anything?"

            "Oh, no, I remember plenty.  But the time between when I died and…well, I guess a week ago…that's gone."

            There was silence a moment, then Harry said, "Didn't…you say you were here on important business?"

            "Well, yes, I am."

            "What business?"

            "And who sent you?" Ron chimed in, raising an eyebrow.

            Percy's eyes went wide with horror and he sprang up from the bed.  "I don't remember!  How can I not remember?!"

            Instead of sinking despairingly back onto the bed, Percy began to frantically pace the room, wearing a look of strained thought.  He muttered the whole time, hoping something might come back.

            "I must remember!  Agh, Ginny said this might happen!"

            "Whoa, whoa, Ginny said?" Harry cried, holding up his hand.

            "Yes…wait, no.  But…"  Percy shook his head again, continuing his pacing.

            "Percy, sit down," Harry said, gesturing to the bed.

            Too distraught to argue, Percy sunk back onto the bed, his hands on his forehead.  Harry sat next to him, first reaching out to put a hand on his back but, quickly realizing this was impossible, clasped his hands in front of him instead, looking at Percy.

            "You do remember some things, so I'm pretty sure we can get it all back," he said hopefully, "Try to think of Ginny.  What did she say?  She warned you that something might happen…"

            "My memory," Percy said slowly, "She said she'd been talking to someone and they said I might lose my memory by coming back."

            "Okay, see?  We're getting somewhere.  Um…"  Harry tried to think of something else to jog Percy's memory, but his own mind was drawing a blank.  "You got any ideas, Ron?"

            He didn't answer.  Harry quickly looked up at him.  Ron was gawking at them, wearing a look of three parts disbelief and one part disgust.

            "Ron?  Ron."

            Ron just stared at Harry, his eyes a little wider and mouth a little opener than normal.  "What in the hell is going on?!" he suddenly yelled, "Less than an hour ago, I was sleeping, just minding my own business.  Now my best friend is talking with my brother, who just happened to die two years ago but can't remember anything, about my sister giving him a warning, while she too happens to be dead and who-knows-where.  Am I the only one who thinks there's something strange about this?!"

            Ron stopped, breathing hard.

            "Yes," Percy said simply.

            "What?"  Ron looked as if Percy had just pulled a dragon out of thin air.

            "Yes, you are the only one who thinks there's something strange about this.  Now, can you try to be useful?"

            Ron was motionless a moment, then slowly nodded his head, sinking to the floor and sitting cross-legged.

            "So… she warned you your memory might go away," Harry said slowly, "Did she say anything about getting it back?"

            Percy was quiet.  "I… Just jogging my memory, I guess."

            "Oh that's helpful," Ron muttered, "C'mon, Percy.  You were sent here to…?"

            "To do something.  If I knew, then I wouldn't have this problem, Ronald."

            Ron's mind seemed to be going at light speed right then.  His eyes were sparkling, and a smile slowly spread onto his face.  "If you came back…" he said slowly, "then maybe…  Ginny…"

            "No.  Ginny wasn't sent back.  And she won't be either," Percy said, shaking his head.

            Ron knit his brows.  "How do you know?"

            "I…" Percy paused, thinking, "I don't know… how I know, that is.  I just… know.  I remember, I guess."

            "A word, a name, something…" Harry muttered to himself, "How about the alphabet?  Can you remember a letter?"

            "Listen, Har-"  Percy stopped short, his eyes going wide. " 'H'!  Something with an 'h'."  Percy began massaging his forehead, muttering again.  "Uh… hu-huh… ha-… Hogwarts!  Something to do with Hogwarts!"

            Percy clapped his hands once, smiling triumphantly.  Ron and Harry, however, didn't find it such an accomplishment.

            "A whole lot of good that does," Ron frowned, "What at Hogwarts?"

            "I don't know, but it's a start," Percy said, his joy unwavering, "So now I go to Hogwarts."

            "What?" Ron's face quickly fell, his eyes going wide.  "You finally talk to me after being here a week, and now you're leaving?  You can't do that to me, Percy!  Not again!  What if things get worse, huh?  What if you forget me, too?"

            Ron's jaw was set tight, trying to hold back the tears that were coming to his eyes.

            "I'm not leaving yet, Ron.  At least not in that sense.  And we'll both be at Hogwarts.  I just need to find out why I'm back, and if going to Hogwarts will help me, then I need to go to Hogwarts."

            Ron shook his head slightly.  Then, looking straight at Percy, he held a finger up warningly.

            "You better be there," he said quietly, "Don't just go off and leave me again.  You better be there."

            "I promise, I'll see you at Hogwarts before I go back."

            The house was silent but for the sudden wailing of the ghoul in the attic.

            "I'm gonna go downstairs," Harry said, "There's no way I'm getting back to sleep."

            So, leaving the two brothers alone, he headed downstairs and, despite what he'd said, fell asleep on the couch.

****

            When Harry woke up the next morning, he first thought it had all been a dream.  Then he realized where he was.  The light coming through the windows was a little bright, but it definitely wasn't the same as waking up in Ron's orange room when the sun peeped in.  Gradually, all the Weasley family came down, Ron last of all.  Harry kept expecting Ron to mention Percy, but he didn't.  It wasn't, after all, the easiest of subjects to bring up.

            "So, are you boys doing anything special today?" Mrs. Weasley asked over breakfast, an unusual lilt in her voice.

            Ron stared at her mystified a while, then seemed to remember something.  "Oh yeah…  I mean, no.  Er…I was just thinking, um, maybe some quidditch practice or going to Diagon Alley."

            "Diagon Alley sounds like a good idea," Mrs. Weasley said, that same strange tone in her voice, "What do you say, Harry?"

            Every single eye in the room turned to Harry expectantly.  "Uh…yeah, sure," he said, trying to suppress a laugh.  What was going on?

            "Well, you better get going," Mr. Weasley said, "You want to get there before the rush."

            Before he knew what was what, Harry was dressed, through the floo system, and standing in the middle of Diagon Alley.  He and Ron checked in a few of the stores, seeing the latest quidditch equipment and a few interesting items they'd never seen before.  In silence, they headed for Florean Fortesque's.

            "It was real, wasn't it?" Harry said quietly after a while.

            "Yeah," Ron said, "It was."

            "So…where is he now?"

            "Hogwarts, I suppose.  That's where he was going at least."

            Harry could tell Ron didn't really want to press the matter further, so he grew quiet, catching snippets of other conversations instead.

            "Oh please, Mum!  All my friends have them, even Kylie, and you know how she…"

            "Never in a million years did I dream he could actually use the wand.  Quite a clever boy, but…"

            "Thank goodness it's the last day of July.  Maybe some of this heat will start going away.  Just the other day…"

            "He had the nerve to say that Krum was better than Iverling!  Well, after that I really…"

            "Crikey!" Ron suddenly yelled, stopping in the middle of the alley, "Harry, what time is it??"

            "Uh, 1:16.  Why?"

            "Oh, um… I told my mum we'd be back at one.  We'd better hurry."

            A little confused at the rush, Harry ran after Ron as he headed for the Leaky Cauldron.  When they got there, however, Ron seemed to be having trouble with the floo powder.  He stood in front of the fire biting his lip, looking from the powder to the fire and occasionally at Harry.

            "Um…I just remembered.  We're supposed to meet them someplace else."       

            "Where?"

            "Uh, just someplace called the Den."

            Harry's eyes went wide, Ron quickly looking away.  "Well, I'll go first," he said, going as red as his hair.

            Ron threw in the powder and stepped in before Harry could ask anything.  For a while, Harry stared at the fire, wondering why they were going to the Den.  But with a shrug, he threw in the powder, stepped in, and yelled out "The Den!"  After a rushed and uncomfortable trip, he found himself in the family sitting room of Remus Lupin's house.  However, he also found something that he hadn't expected at all.

            "SURPRISE!!!"

            The whole room was decorated in red and gold streamers, a large banner on the opposite wall reading "Happy Birthday, Harry!"  From behind every couch, every chair, every table sprung a friendly face:  Ron, Fred, George, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Remus, Sirius, Hermione, and even…

            "Azar!" he cried in surprise as she ran up and hugged him.

            "Happy seventeenth, Harry Legs!" she smiled.

            "A…a party?  For me?"

            "No, it's a party for Ron here," George said, "However, since you came, and it happens to be your birthday, and we seem to have a few decorations saying "Happy Birthday, Harry", you can call it your party."

            Harry felt very confused at that moment.

            "You're too gullible, Harry!" Fred laughed, "Of course it's for you!"

            Harry shook his head, smiling.  Then he looked up, running to Sirius and Remus and hugging each in turn.

            "I thought you two had important business to take care of."

            "What's more important than my godson's seventeenth birthday?" Sirius smiled.

            "Besides, Sirius is happy to have any excuse to throw a party," Remus said with a grin.

            "Quiet, Moony, you'll blow my cover."

            Harry just smiled.  Whatever had happened over the last few weeks, it had done those two Marauders good.  The group was soon talking happily, everyone wishing Harry a happy birthday.  It was definitely the happiest one he'd ever had.

            "Hey Harry, gonna get your birthday whacking?" Fred said with a classic Weasley twin grin.

            "I certainly hope not from you!" Harry laughed.

            "No, from your lovely lady, of course," he answered, nodding his head toward Azar.

            "Who you calling a lady?" Azar said, poking her finger against Fred's chest, "I'm anything but a lady.  But I would be more than happy to oblige."

            Harry went a little red, though whether from pleasure or embarrassment one couldn't tell.  "Oh, would you, my little Seer?"

            It was amazing how quickly the room went quiet at that one little word.  Everyone was either staring at Harry or Azar, and Fred was absolutely gawking.

            "A…a seer?"

            Harry glanced over at Azar, realizing he'd said something that he shouldn't have.  Azar, however, didn't look flustered in any way.

            "Why, of course," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Didn't you know?  I know all and see all, just like the great Sibyll Trelawney."

            The room erupted with laughter, everyone enjoying the "joke" immensely.  Harry gladly joined in, relieved Azar was such a quick thinker. 

            "Hey, Azar, any predictions for the birthday boy?" Ron said, grinning.

            "Yeah, let's see a seer at work!" Fred cried enthusiastically.

            Harry joined in, sitting in front of Azar.  "What does the future hold for me, Zarina?"

            "Zat iz Madam Zarina to you, little boy," she answered, thrusting her nose in the air and putting on what she clearly thought was a mystical gypsy accent, "First, I sheel be needing a creestal ball."

            "One crystal ball coming right up," Remus said, hurrying out of the room.

            For a few minutes of pandemonium, everyone rushed about, setting up a small end table with two chairs on either side and a circle of chairs around it so everyone could watch the fun.  Azar stood, a finger on her chin, studying everything carefully.

            "Zere iz somezing missing…  Ah, I've got it!"  With that, she ran out of the room, leaving everyone else a little perplexed.  Shrugging it off, Sirius set about to grabbing a few candles, igniting them and drawing the curtains so the only light was the flickering flames.  Then all was silent for a while, everyone waiting anxiously for the seer and her crystal ball.

            "I couldn't find the real thing," Remus said, walking into the room carrying a round glass vase, "but this should do.  Hey, where'd she go?"

            "To find the last finishing touches," Sirius smiled, shrugging.

            Just then, the door opened very slowly.  In the doorway stood a figure, barely touched by the weak candlelight in the room.

            "Madam Zarina," she said, her voice sounding like rain hitting glass, "has returned."

            And so she had, in all her splendor.  Azar had on a thick crimson shawl of sorts, covering her head and shoulders.  On the edge was a series of gold loops, a little larger than seemed right, but very appropriate nonetheless.  The shawl must have been very long because it fell down her back, looping around in an thick, twisted belt.  From the belt fell the end of the fabric, hitting the floor with many long golden tassels.

            "Hey, is that one of my curtains?" Remus asked suspiciously.

            "Don't worry, it's very fixable," Azar said, her accent fading for that while, "Now, half man, half boy, si-eet."

            She indicated one of the chairs by the "crystal ball", taking the other for herself.  Harry sat, wondering what he'd gotten himself into.  He just never knew with Azar.

            "First, your palm," she said, reaching for his hand portentously, "Madam Zarina finds eet simpler eef she starts small."

            Harry held at his hand and Azar began studying it like it was a treasure map.

            "Ah, you are brave, I zee.  Kind and loyal, too."

            Harry smiled.

            "But vhat iz zis?" she said, her head tilting to one side, "Your lifeline…  It's zo…"

            "What?"

            She shook her head.  "It…it is difficult…"

            All the candles flickered in a nonexistent wind, causing everyone to murmur in surprise.  Harry's eyes, however, were on the candle on the table.  It wasn't flickering as if in a wind, but doing something he'd never seen before.  The flame was flaring and dimming in some sort of pattern… like a heartbeat.  The pattern was getting faster and faster.  Harry felt his own heartbeat increase.  He was having trouble breathing.  The flame was flashing over and over, dark and light, dark and light.

            "Vell!" Azar said, slapping the table.

            Harry jumped, feeling as if he had just woken up.

            "Let's git to zee crystal ball, shawl we?"

            Harry glanced back at the flame, but it was burning normally now.  Azar began gazing into the clear glass.  Harry too stared into the vase, but his eyes grew wide.  From the center of the vase, a small cloud of gray smoke appeared.  It grew larger and larger until it filled the whole glass.  Then, a purple light erupted from the cloud.  Ron fell off his chair.

            "Hey, how are you doing that, Azar?" Harry said with a nervous laugh.

            "Ah, but I am not the one doing it, half man, half boy," she whispered, looking as if she knew a thousand secrets the rest of the world never would, "Divination iz a majeek more mysteerious than you vould eemagine.  It iz full of…power."

            No sooner had she whispered that last word than a fire erupted in the fireplace.  Everyone jumped about a foot, Mrs. Weasley letting out a scream and Ron falling off his chair again.  Harry turned slowly back to Azar, his eyes wide.  She was hunched down, running her hands over and over the glass vase.  She looked up at Harry and he drew in a swift breath.  The purple light coming from the "crystal ball" shined in her eyes, making her look both wild and subdued at the same time.

            "You vant to hear your fate," she said, her voice so deep it gave him a shiver, "Harry Potter?"

            He gulped slightly, giving a nod.

            The light from the crystal ball sudden shone a bright blue and the clouds within it spun faster and faster.  Azar looked very closely into it, her nose nearly touching the glass.

            "My, my, zere is much in your life.  Much zat has happened, and much zat has yet to ah-cur."

            The room was strangely silent, everyone leaning in closely.  It seemed they all hardly dared to breathe.

            Suddenly, Azar spoke up, her voice coming out like a chilled wind.  "Beware the holidays, half man, half boy," she whispered, "for they bring anguish…"

            You could have cut the silence with a knife.  Ron and Hermione glanced at each other worriedly.  Sirius was on the edge of his seat, unsure of what he should do, if anything.

            "Zere iz one…last…thing…" Azar said, staring intently at her crystal ball, "But eet iz not clear… so vague…"

            "What?"  Harry felt his heart pounding in his chest.  He leaned forward on the table, his eyes never leaving Azar's, watching the shifting fog reflect in them.  Her eyes… they were so…blank.

            "How…  It seems impossible.  How…how…" Suddenly she leapt up, pointing at a spot on the crystal ball.  "How in the world did a spaghetti sauce stain get on a vase??"

            The tension in the room vanished, replaced with roaring laughter.  Harry just let his head drop onto the table, so relieved, laughing silently.  Then he looked up again, pointing an accusing finger at Azar but a smile still on his face.

            "You nearly scared me to death, Azar!"

            Azar grinned, very pleased with herself.  "Well, I can't very well take all the credit.  My lovely assistant Remus did all the magic tricks."

            "Remus, you knew??" Sirius cried in disbelief.

            "Yes, I admit I played a hand in this trick.  I had a hard time keeping from laughing, too!"

            "I ought to kill you for that, Moony!" Sirius yelled, shoving Remus good-naturedly, "I almost had a heart attack when that fire burst up!"

            "Well, I think all the credit should go to the wonderful actress we have here," Remus said, gesturing toward Azar, "There were a few times even I thought it was real."

            "Move over, Harry, it's my turn!" Fred laughed, shoving his way into the chair, "C'mon, Azar, tell my future!"

            After a few more predictions, though none as tense as the first, they had a meal that would rival those of Hogwarts' feasts, followed by Harry opening his presents.  The party lasted long into the night until even Sirius was getting droopy-eyed.  Everyone headed home except Azar, Ron, and Hermione.  Ron joined Harry in his room while the girls shared another of the guest rooms.  Even though they were tired, Harry and Ron stayed up a while more, talking.

            "So how does it feel to be one year older?" Ron asked lazily from his sleeping bag on the floor.

            "A lot like it felt yesterday," Harry laughed, "Another year, come and gone."

            Ron was silent a moment, then asked, "Are you afraid?"

            "Of what?"  Harry propped himself onto his elbow, looking down at his friend.

            "I dunno," Ron shrugged, "Things.  School, people, life.  The future."

            Harry shrugged, too.  "I haven't had much time to think about the future.  I've had enough trouble with the now."

            "Everything's just changing so fast.  Just think, next year we won't be going to Hogwarts.  Who knows what we'll be doing.  I think it's very frightening.  It may sound weird, but I don't want to grow-up.  I'm not ready for it."

            "Well, we don't need to worry about that yet," Harry smiled, "We've got a year to waste before we enter "adulthood."  No need to worry about what may or may not happen.  What to go eavesdrop on the girls?"

            Ron moaned.  "I'm too tired to move."

            "Too tired to eavesdrop on your girlfriend who could be talking about you at this very moment?"

            "Well, since you put it that way…"

            Quickly worming out of his sleeping bag, Ron headed on tiptoe toward the door, Harry right behind him.

~*~*~

A/N:  I'm not even going to try and think of an author's note right now, so let's just get to the thanks yous.

**Kelly:**  Thanks!  I'm keeping a tight lip on the R/C/S love triangle, but I can promise you this:  we will know who Catherine chooses in the end.  Yes, I really do think Harry's better than his dad.  As Remus said, it's kind of hard to compare a seeker with a chaser, but I think Harry is just a flying protégé (or whatever the word is).  I mean, look at how Harry did the FIRST time he was on a broom!  Plus, he was the youngest player in a century.  James was probably just good because he grew up knowing quidditch; Harry has a natural inclination.  As to Sirius' job, yes, he will get one, and he'll hate me for giving it to him.  It's an evil job to give such a man… ^_^  But as to what it is, that's still hush-hush.

**Lady Aquila:**  Thanks!

**SuNnY GuRL:**  Thanks!

**Naralina:**  Yes, I can guarantee you that he's dead.  But I still can't tell you why he's there. (When that idea popped into my head… *sighs happily*  A happy moment indeed. ^_^)  And since you know what I'm going to say, I won't say it, but know that I would have said it, know what I'm saying? *grins*  Yeah, okay, I'll say it anyway.  WRITE!  And thanks for the review. ^_^

**Moon Warrior:**  Nope, no Ginny.  If she appeared, I think that would do poor Ron in.  Thanks!

**Sandrine Black:**  Thanks!

**Mrs. Grim:**  Ah good, I wanted them to sound that way. ^_^  Thanks!

**Jeanne:**  *laughs*  Okee-day.  Thanks, Jess!

**suger:**  Thank you!

**abbey:**  Oh good!  I so wanted that image of Remus to turn out right, and I'm happy to see it did!  We think alike, eh?  Well, I think I can take that as a compliment. ^_^  Thanks!

**jona:**  *grins*  Not that I would know, but I think men's tempers have a tendency to flare when women are involved.  And since Sirius doesn't have the best of tempers…  Ah, but they're best friends.  They wouldn't let a girl get between them.  Or would they? (Just have to add that, ya know.)  Thanks!

**Ray:**  Thanks!  And depends on what you mean by action…  I think you mean romantically, but if you mean "going all the way", most definitely never.  That would knock my rating up to PG-13, and I don't think I'd be much good at writing that kind of scene even if I tried.  But other than that (including adventure-action), most definitely soon.

**Starry Night:**  Thanks!

**Julia:**  Thanks!  Yeah, Sirius should be nicer.  But he's been looking out just for himself so long, I think he's forgotten how to look out for others.

**sweets:**  Twice in a row!  That's gotta be a new record. ^-^  Heehee, thanks!

**Lupin's Niece AJ:**  Thanks!  And hope he called you. ~_^

**Impmon:**  Thanks!

**Sophie Black:**  Thanks!  I hope you didn't have too much trouble with Azar's accent.  I'm reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire in Spanish right now, and I definitely know how hard it is to read accents when they aren't in your native language.

**Super saya-jin Gotan:**  *puts hands on hips*  Did you read my Year 5, or not?  *grins*  Of course, many do tend to forget.  With all the fanfics, I know how hard it is to keep facts straight.  Yes, he is dead, and he didn't die the most pleasant of deaths either.  If you want the full details, I think it happens in "Year 5:  Harry Potter and the Day of Dreams"  Chapter 7:  The Family of Red.

            *groans*  I had so much I wanted to say in my A/N, but am now in too much pain to even think about it. (Girls, I think you can sympathize.)  That explains why I may have been a little snappy in a few thank yous.  I really appreciate you guys for reading and reviewing my chapter!  But I'm definitely not in a good mood right now.  So I'll just call it a night.

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	6. Will Some Things Never Change!

Disclaimer:  I still don't own the wonderful world of Harry Potter. *sigh*  Rough luck, I know.  Also, this disclaimer should have gone w/ the previous chapter.  The term "half man, half boy" belongs to Deegan from the book The Battle for the Castle.

Dedication:  I dedicate this chapter to Moon Warrior for letting me be her beta-reader, and see her new story. *grins happily*  And hurry with the Chronicles!!!

Chapter 6:  Will Some Things Never Change?!

            "Did you ever think the sun was too bright?" Ron asked when Harry walked in the room the next morning.

            "What?"  Harry had just spent twenty minutes waiting for Hermione to get out of the bathroom just to have Azar shove her way in first, so he wasn't in the most thoughtful of moods.

            "In the morning, right when the sun gets up, it's blinding.  Especially in the summer.  The summer is always too bright."

            Harry raised an eyebrow, but Ron continued to stare out the window.

            "Have you ever seen a ghost outside in such bright?" Ron went on wistfully, "At Hogwarts, they're always indoors.  Can you even see them in the sun?"

            "Does this have anything to do with Percy?" Harry said tentatively.

            "I guess.  I'm not really sure."

            Harry sat on the bed.  "Have you told your parents?"

            "Told them what?"

            "About Percy."

            Ron finally turned to Harry, looking at him as if he'd just suggested they forget about Hogwarts and live as muggles.  "No.  And I don't plan to."

            Harry was a bit surprised.  "Why not?  Wouldn't they want to know?"

            "I don't see what good it'd do.  He'll be at Hogwarts, anyways, and they've got too much to think about."  Ron's mood had gone from contemplative to tense faster than Hermione could answer a Transfiguration question.

            "I still think you should tell them.  What harm could it do?

            "Are you joking?!" Ron cried, getting a little panicky, "They'd think I was mad!  Think about it, Harry.  "How was your day, Mum and Dad?  By the way, Percy came back from the dead a few nights ago.  He's here on some important mission, though he can't remember anything.  Could you pass the toast?"  If you didn't know, would you believe me or think my grief had gone to my brain?"

            "Well…  I could back you up."

            Ron shook his head.  "I dunno.  It's Percy's choice.  Let's leave it at that.  I'm going down to breakfast."

            Ron left the room.  Harry sat a moment, then tidied up the room, just giving himself time to think.

            "Knock, knock.  I hope you're decent," Azar said, rapping on the door and then walking in, "Hey, Harry."

            "I'm not speaking to you," Harry said, turning away from her with a faked lofty look.

            "Aw, why?"

            "You stole my spot in the bathroom line.  And I think I've a bruise where you shoved me into the wall."

            "Sorry, Harry," she laughed, "but when nature calls, woe to anyone who gets in my way."

            "Azar," Harry said after a while, "there're a couple things I wanted to ask you."

            "Ask away," she smiled.

            "Last night, why did you tell me 'beware the holidays'?"

            "Very simple," she said, her voice getting quiet, "That thing you've been avoiding, your greatest fear, it shall come true at Christmas.  You're coming to meet my family."

            "The horror!" Harry laughed, "Well, that's one prediction that won't come true."

            "Mr. Potter," Azar said, folding her arms, "do you mean to tell me that you are not coming to my house for Christmas?"

            "Well—I dunno."

            "You're coming."

            "We'll talk about this later," Harry smiled, shaking his head, "Now, question number two:  why didn't you tell everyone that you're a Seer?"

            Azar thought a moment, then smiled at him.  "I thought it'd be a secret.  Just between you and me."

            "You've never been one for secrets, Azar.  Keeping a secret just for the sake of having one isn't like you at all."

            "Well, what if it is now?" she said, giving an impish grin, "A girl's got a right to change her mind, right?"

            Harry just looked at her, not quite frowning but far from laughing, his head cocked downward as if expecting something.

            "Oh, don't; my dad gives me that look all the time," Azar said, giving a little shiver.

            "Spill it, Azar," he answered simply.

            She tugged nervously at her fingers.  "I…  Well, I'm afraid."

            "Afraid?"

            "Well… yeah.  I don't know.  It's just…this isn't some neat trick.  It's powerful.  And dangerous."

            "Dangerous?"

            Azar smiled slightly.  "Are you my echo or what?"

            "Sorry.  But…why?"

            Azar took a deep breath.  "I know these people would rather die than tell, but…  I don't know.  If Voldemort came… and if I wasn't strong enough…  What if I couldn't take it?  What if I gave in?  People could get hurt.  Because of me."

            "Why would Voldemort come after you?" Harry asked, eyes wide.

            She gave a nervous little laugh.  "I dunno.  I guess I just figure he'd like to know the future, so he could avoid it.  I'd rather not give him the warning."

            Harry nodded, though it was still a shock to think Voldemort might come after Azar.

            "Well, let's head downstairs," Azar smiled, "According to Sirius, our Hogwarts letters have arrived."

            The two hurried downstairs to find Ron and Hermione at opposite ends of the kitchen table, opening their letters.

            "I'm Head Girl!" Hermione suddenly yelled excitedly, brandishing a badge that said 'HG' before them.

            "Wow, congrats, Herm!" Azar exclaimed rushing over to see the badge and letter that came with it.

            "That's great," Harry smiled.

            Ron, however, was silent.  Harry looked over at him.  He was staring at his letter, his eyes so wide Harry was sure they'd fall out.

            "What is it, Ron?"

            "I… I'm Head Boy…" he whispered.

            Everyone was silent.  "Co…come again?" Harry said.

            "I'm Head Boy," Ron said, holding up the badge with a quivering hand.

            Hermione practically leapt over the table to Ron's side.  Her eyes went wide when she saw the badge closely.  "Bloody hell…" she whispered.

            "Hermione!" Ron said with a surprised laugh.

            "Oh my, I'm sorry," she blushed, covering her mouth, "It just kind of popped out.  That's wonderful!"

            She hugged him and Harry and Azar went over, congratulating and patting him on the back.

            "Let me see the letter," Harry said.

            Ron handed Harry a parchment, turning as red as his hair, but unmistakably more from pleasure than embarrassment.  Harry read it with wide eyes:

            Dear Mr. Weasley,

            It is my great pleasure to inform you that you have been chosen as Head Boy for the Hogwarts class of 1998.

            Many think that the title of Head Boy is placed only on those with extremely outstanding academic achievement, and that is partially correct.  But there is much more to it than that.  First, ever teacher at Hogwarts nominates a candidate.  They give reasons why they chose that candidate and reasons the rest of the staff should chose him.  We have a vote, but it doesn't just go by majority.  Every single teacher has to agree that the nominee deserves this great honor.

            Quite a few teachers nominated you, Mr. Weasley.  I feel that you have a right to know their reasons.  First, your outstanding improvement over the last year.  Whatever prompted you to put that much dedication into your schoolwork, it is amazing how far you took it.  A score of twenty-seven O.W.L.s is more than outstanding.  That alone was enough to get you nominated.

            Then, many of us were greatly impressed by how you kept your mind through such trials that you had to suffer.  The loss of family is never easy, and at such a time in life when you have become old enough to be friends, it is especially tragic.  Few people could have survived it as you did, and are.

            The final reason you were chosen is your personality.  All of us felt that you would be kind and fair to the students of our school, yet you wouldn't yield to rule breaking (much).  Your natural brotherly ways are a great comfort to younger students.

            I congratulate you, Mr. Weasley, and it is with great pride that I present to you the Head Boy badge.

            Sincerely,

                        Headmaster Albus Dumbledore

            Harry kept looking from the letter to Ron, his voice lost but for one word.  "Wow."

            "Unbelievable, isn't it?" Ron laughed, "It's like Hermione getting expelled:  possible, but definitely the last thing you'd expect.  Ten galleons that you'd've gotten the spot if it weren't for Snape, though."

            Harry shook his head.  "No, you can keep it.  I couldn't be Head Boy."

            Ron just smiled.  "I gotta get home.  Mum and Dad won't be able to believe this.  And I can't wait to see the looks on Fred and George's faces!"

            The rest of the day sped by, Ron and Hermione leaving each in turn.  Harry smiled thinking about how each of the households must be full of laughter and happy tears.  Azar stayed at the Den.  She would be spending the rest of the summer there, for her parents had gone on a second-honeymoon.  The rest of the summer went by so fast, Harry just couldn't believe it.

            Harry tried to go to Azar's room that night to talk, but Remus headed him off.  Even though Harry tried to explain all he wanted to do was talk, he was sure Remus didn't believe him.  "Even the most honorable of seventeen-year-old boys shouldn't be trusted in the bedroom of a sixteen-year old girl," he said with a slight smile as he guided Harry back to his room.

            During Azar's visit, Harry tried twice more to visit her at night, but Remus was always there.  Harry was never sure how he managed it.  Soon enough, however, September 1st arrived and it was time to head to King's Cross Station.  Things at the Den weren't nearly as hectic as the Burrow when it was time to leave, but the problem was Remus' car.  It worked properly about half the time, and seemed to particularly enjoy stalling at stoplights and on hills.  Harry and Azar had little time to say good-bye to Remus and Sirius, and ran all the way to Platform 9 ¾, glad to get there before the train left.

            After boarding the train, however, there was the matter of finding Ron and Hermione.  By the time they finally found the right compartment, half the people on the train were very annoyed with them.

            "It's about time," Ron said when they entered, "We were beginning to think you'd missed the train."

            "Almost did," Harry laughed, "Remus' car isn't the most trustworthy means of transportation."

            Azar sat down, then broke out in a grin.  "Ron and Herm, Head Boy and Girl.  I still can't get over it."

            Hermione smiled (though she had flinched at being called 'Herm'), straightening up, and even Ron looked very pleased.

            "No funny business, then," Hermione smiled, "I'm looking forward to a nice, quiet, and orderly trip."

            "Good luck," Harry laughed, "Nothing's nice, quiet, and orderly when Azar's involved."

            Azar scooted over in her seat, squishing Harry up against the wall and looking as though she hadn't meant to do it.

            "Ah, okay, I take it back!  Get off, I'm suffocating."

            "I thought Draco would have been here with you guys," Azar said, scooting over.

            "He wouldn't be on the train," Harry said, "I mean, he's still living at Hogwarts, right?"

            "Oh yeah, I forgot," Azar said, flumping down into her seat, "I wish he was here, though.  I haven't seen him all summer."

            "Me neither.  Hey, why wasn't he at my birthday party?"

            Ron suddenly looked as though everyone was looking for a lost chocolate cake, and his fingers were sticky with frosting.

            "Ron, don't tell me you didn't invite him??" Hermione said, Ron avoiding her eyes.

            "I just…forgot to."

            "Forgot to?  How could you forget to invite him?!"

            "Look, I'm sorry!  I'm just not used to anything but hating Malfoy.  Besides, I'm not even sure how strong our friendship is, if it exists at all.  Is Malfoy even such a good friend that he would be invited?"

            "For heaven's sakes, Ron, he's a person, not a…a storm," Hermione countered, "You don't categorize your friends.  And his name is Draco."

            "See?  I'm still not even used to calling him by his first name!  How was I supposed to be expected to invite him?"

            "You just were.  I hope he can forgive us," Hermione sighed.

            "Oh, he probably doesn't even know when Harry's birthday is.  He won't care."

            "Of course he'll care!  He has feelings, you know!"

            "Well, he's not like the rest of us."

            Hermione looked as if she were ready to slap Ron.  "Ronald Mary Weasley!  How dare you!"

            Ron's face went extremely red from a mixture of embarrassment and anger.  "Crikey, Hermione, just drop it."

            "I will not drop it!  Draco is a good person and he should be treated as such!  Why can't you forgive him?!  The rest of us have, right?"

            She looked to Harry and Azar, who both nodded vigorously.  Even if they thought different, neither dared to disagree with Hermione when she was like this.

            "Well I'm sorry if forgetting to invite someone to a birthday party is such a crime!"

            Hermione glared at him, giving an indignant grunt, and then stormed from the compartment.  Ron slumped back in his seat, arms folded and bottom lip protruded in a pout.

            Suddenly, Azar snorted with laughter, causing both boys to look up at her.  "Mary?" she said to Ron, unable to contain her grin.

            "Oh shut up," Ron said, slumping further down, "It's tradition in my family that one child gets her mother's name as her middle one.  My parents had lost all hope of having a girl by the time they got to me, so I was stuck with it.  And don't you dare tell anyone.  I'm going to the bathroom."

            He lifted himself out of his seat and stomped out of the compartment, slamming the door as he went.

            "Well," Azar said, stretching out and putting her feet on the empty seat across from her, "so much for a quiet trip."

            Ron and Hermione were gone for the majority of the rest of the trip.  They'd occasionally come back and talk with Harry and Azar a while, always managing not to be there at the same time.  Ron was in the compartment when the train finally stopped, having arrived at Hogsmeade station.  The second he stood up, however, Azar grabbed him by the scruff of his robes and started marching him out the train.

            "Azar, what are you doing?" Ron asked, alarmed at having little control over where he was going.

            Azar didn't answer, though her face was as composed as if she didn't even realize was she was doing.  Harry followed, as bewildered as Ron.  When they got outside, she stopped a moment, looking around, then marched forward as determined as ever.  It was a while before Harry realized they were headed straight for Hermione.  When she reached her, Azar grabbed her by the back of her robes also, much to Hermione's surprise.  Getting out of the crowd's way, Azar turned her captives so they could see her, but she didn't let them go.

            "Okay," she said casually, "Apologize."

            "What?" Ron said incredulously.

            "You heard me.  Kiss and make up."

            "Oh, come on, Azar," Hermione sighed, turning to leave, but Azar tugged her back.

            "We're not leaving until both of you apologize."

            "This is ridiculous," Ron said with a frown.

            "Oh look, the first carriages are leaving," Azar said as if merely commenting on the weather.

            "You're going to make us late, Azar," Hermione said, a little angry.

            "That would be a shame, wouldn't it?  Of course, it's out of my hands.  You guys are the ones who have to apologize."

            Hermione's eyes went wide and she quickly glanced over to the carriages, now greatly reduced in number and more and more leaving every minute.  Ron noticed this, too, getting a little worried.  He and Hermione looked at each other.

            "Fine, I'm sorry," Ron finally said.

            "Yeah me, too," Hermione answered, "Now, will you let us go, Azar?"

            "You forgot to seal it with a kiss."

            Ron and Hermione looked at each other again, both still a little angry.  Ron, however, slowly began to smile, and Hermione couldn't stop her grin either.  They leaned forward and kissed.  Then, with another smile, they kissed again, much longer this time.

            "Break it up, break it up," Azar said, pulling them apart, "The expression is 'kiss and make up' not 'kiss and make out.'  Besides, we'll be left behind."

            Azar headed off for the last carriage remaining, Harry right behind her.  He just stared at her, until, while she was entering the carriage, she looked at him and said, "What?"

            He smiled.  "I love you."

            "The feeling's mutual," Azar said, leaning over and giving him a quick kiss.

            After Ron and Hermione joined them, the carriage jolted alive, heading quickly for the school.  When they got there, all the other carriages were gone and they could tell they were more than a little late.

            "Come on, let's hurry," Hermione said, leaping up the steps two-by-two, "Oh, I hope they didn't try to introduce the new Head Girl and Boy.  I'd just die of embarrassment."

            They quickly entered the Entrance Hall, but were stopped by a cold voice.

            "Well, well, if it isn't Potty, Weasel, and Mudblood."

            The four friends turned around to find Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall, sneering haughtily.

            "Draco?  Wh…what did you call us?" Harry said, truly unable to believe what the blond boy had just said.

            "You heard me, Potter," he scoffed, eyes full of malice, "Oh, but how could I forget Miss Azar Zundel, practically perfect in every way."  His voice was anything but complimentary.

            "Well, what do you know," Azar said, putting her hands on her hips and cocking her head to one side, "A spoonful of sugar really doesn't help the medicine go down."

            Ron was more than a little confused at this statement, and Harry suspected Draco was too though he didn't show it.

            "Nice to see you four," Draco went on, "The summer seemed so empty without you."

            They were silent, not sure what to say.  Draco just glared at them.  Suddenly, Hermione's eyes went wide and she put her hand to her mouth.

            "Oh, Draco…" she whispered.

            Draco didn't answer, but headed for the Great Hall.

            "Draco," Hermione said, stepping in his way, "I'm so sorry.  When I heard…"

            "Oh, you're sorry," Draco said, his eyes clouding over, "So sorry that you didn't even bother to send an owl?"

            Hermione looked absolutely crushed, tears coming to her eyes but words unable to form on her lips.  Draco flushed with anger, but was blinking furiously, as if there was something in his eye.

            "Just out of my way, mudblood," he snarled, shoving roughly past her.

            "Malfoy, get back here!" Ron called angrily.

            "Make me."

            Ron ran right after him, reaching out and grabbing Draco's left arm to stop him.  What happened next, however, shocked all of them, Ron most of all.  Draco cried out in pain.  It wasn't from surprise or from pressure.  This was true, searing pain; pain strong enough to make Draco fall to his knees.  Ron quickly let go, absolutely mortified.

            "Weasley!" came a slightly shrill voice.

            Professor McGonagall stormed up to them, livid with anger, the Sorting Hat in one hand and a three-legged stool in the other.  "May I ask what you think you're doing?"

            "I…I didn't mean to, Professor.  I just was trying to stop Malfoy.  I didn't mean anything by it," Ron said, his eyes wide.

            McGonagall set him in her piercing gaze a moment, then turned to Draco.  "Are you all right, Mr. Malfoy?"

            "Yes, Professor.  Weasley startled me, that's all," Draco said, getting up, but Harry noticed he was rubbing his forearm, as if to get rid of the pain.

            "Very well then.  Hurry to the Great Hall; you've already missed the Sorting and will miss the feast if you don't get there soon."

            McGonagall then turned to go wherever she was headed, presumably to return the Sorting Hat to its rightful place, and Draco skulked off to the Great Hall without another word.

            "What happened, Ron?" Azar asked in bewilderment.

            "I…I don't know.  I swear I didn't grab him roughly.  I barely even touched him!  Think he was faking it?"

            "No," Harry said, shaking his head, "That was real pain, no doubt about it.  I just can't imagine why it hurt him like that.  Or why he acted like that.  You'd think last year didn't happen at all."

            "Well, I say we forget Malfoy for the night and think about our stomachs.  I don't know about yours, but mine is empty and I don't plan on keeping it that way."

            They started off for the Great Hall, but Ron stopped, turning around.  "Hermione?  Hermione, aren't you coming?"

            She didn't answer, just standing, fingering her robes nervously.

            "Hermione, what's wrong?" Ron asked, walking over to her.

            "He's right," she whispered, eyes brimming with tears, "I read about it, I felt sorry for him, but then I turned to another article.  I didn't even send him a letter.  If it had been any of you, I'd have been there as soon as I could, but for him…  I didn't even think of sending an owl.  How can I even call myself his friend?"

            "What happened?  What did you read about?" Harry asked anxiously.

            "His mother.  Draco's mother," Hermione said quietly, "In mid-August, she…  She committed suicide."

~*~*~

A/N:  I'm so mean to poor Draco. *grins*  What, did you think I'd just let him be nice this year?

            Whew, finally at Hogwarts!  Now I really need to get my ideas in order…  I should be doing math right now, but hey, it's Superbowl Sunday. ^_^

            Well, thank you all for reviewing!!!

**SuNnY GuRL:**  Thanks!

**Sophie Black:**  Thanks!  I'm glad you didn't have too much trouble. ^_^

**1:**  Thanks!

**Jeanne:**  Yeah… "half man, half boy" doesn't belong to me.  And real or fake, you decide. ^_^  Thanks!

**Mrs. Grim:**  Nope, nothing. ^-^ Yes, they do both deserve someone… ^_^  Thanks!

**abbey:**  Thanks! ^-^

**Lady Aquila:**  Thanks!  And maybe… ^-^

**Nallen Riddle:**  Well, Draco's back. ^-^  Thanks!

**Naralina:**  Thanks!  I'm looking forward to your new chapter, too!!!!

**yerbroham:**  Since I already emailed you, I'll just say thanks.  Thanks! ^-^

**sweets:**  lol.  Mmmm…  The only question I'll answer is yes, the last word is going to be scar.  Though good luck figuring out in what context. ^_^

**Lupin's Niece AJ:**  ^_^  Thanks!

            Thank you all!

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	7. Preparing For the Future

Chapter 7:  Preparing For the Future

            "Why would she do it?" Harry asked quietly.

            He and Ron were alone in the Gryffindor common room, sitting on the rug in front of the dying fire.  Hermione had gone to her dormitory in a state of deep depression and the rest of the Gryffindors had been too drowsy and full to think of anything but their beds.  Not that they had anything else to worry about.

            "Her husband's a Death Eater, her son's a runaway, and both of them would probably kill each other if they met anywhere," Ron said, his head resting on his knees, "Doesn't seem like the most pleasant of households."

            "Still…to kill yourself.  Even with all my years at the Durselys, I never even contemplated it.  I mean, there's always tomorrow, and who knows what that'll bring.  I'm living proof of that," he stopped a moment, then asked, "How do wizards commit suicide anyhow?"

            "How should I know?" Ron said, bristling slightly.

            "Well, you were brought up as a wizard."

            "Yeah, but I never tried to kill myself!"

            "Sorry.  I just want to know more about this.  She didn't really seem the type to do it, though.  Not that I knew her well, but…"

            "Does someone have to be a type to commit suicide?"

            "Well, no.  I guess not."

            "Look, whatever Draco's mum did isn't our problem.  Draco's our problem."

            "He's not a problem, Ron.  He just had a rough summer."

            "Yeah, and so he's taking it out on us."

            "Well, we are the reason for some of the strife.  I remember in my second year when Dobby prevented your owls from getting to me.  I felt like maybe I didn't have any friends after all.  It was a horrible feeling."

            "Yeah, I guess that wouldn't feel too great.  But he didn't have to be so rough with Hermione.  And what was the deal with his arm hurting like that?"

            "It was his left forearm," Harry said quietly, "The one that was cut last year.  Apparently Basilisk venom leaves a more lasting mark."

            "What if it was more than Basilisk venom?" Ron said, sitting up a little straighter, "What if it was some Dark Magic or potion?  What if Voldemort put a bit of himself in the knife so Draco will slowly get eviler and eviler until he is nothing but another Dark Lord?!"

            Ron turned quickly to Harry, a bit of panic in his eyes.  Harry, on the other hand, looked as if Ron had just proclaimed that Voldemort was, in fact, the Easter Bunny.

            "Sorry," Ron laughed, grinning sheepishly, "Got a little carried away."

            "Apparently," Harry smiled, "I think we should get to bed.  The sleep depravation is affecting your mind."

            "Ah, quiet, Potter," Ron said, shoving his friend playfully and then heaving himself to his feet.

            The two walked up to their dormitory and, despite the weight of the world resting on their minds, fell asleep as soon as their heads hit their pillows.

****

            "What's first for today?" Ron asked when Harry got his schedule.  Being near the end of the alphabet, Ron always looked at Harry's classes to find out what his own schedule would say when he got it a few minutes later.  It was no use to point out to Ron that it wouldn't kill him to wait a little while longer.

            "Potions," Harry said, voice completely devoid of any enthusiasm.

            Ron groaned.  "Then what?"

            "This Preparing for the Future class.  What's that?"

            "Oh, Prep class," Ron said casually, "My brothers told me about that.  They assess your skills and prepare you for work in the real world.  'Course you can't rely completely on it.  The test George took said he'd be an Ministry worker."

            "I'm looking forward to that class," Azar put in, pointing a fork at Harry's schedule, "I know near to nothing about what jobs there are available, other than Ministry and teaching positions."

            "Who teaches that class, anyways?" Harry asked.

            "I never noticed the teacher before," Ron said swallowing a mouth full of bacon, "Do you know him, Hermione?"

            "No.  And I didn't look up at the table last night.  I was too distracted."

            "Me, too," Harry shrugged, "Guess we won't know 'til we get to class."

            It was then Harry realized Azar was wearing her I-know-something-you-don't smile as she stirred her food around on her plate.  She eventually looked up, saw Harry staring questionably at her, and broke into an even bigger smile.

            "Okay, Azar, out with it."

            "Out with what?" she asked innocently.

            "You know who are Prep teacher is."

            Ron and Hermione looked at her eagerly.

            "Oh, I wouldn't say I know," Azar said slowly, relishing in every word, "But considering I saw someone on the staff table last night who wasn't there before, I can make a pretty good guess."

            "Who?" Ron asked, his food temporarily forgotten.

            "Well, let's see.  I'm not rightly sure if I remember his name…"

            "Azar, don't do this to us," Harry moaned, "Just tell."

            "Why, Mr. Potter, that sounded like a command.  And you know how I hate people telling me what to do."

            "Fine then.  Please?"

            Azar thought it over a moment.  "Naw," she finally grinned, "I'll let you find out when you get there."

            "Ah, you evil git."

            "Flattery will get you everywhere, Harry legs," Azar said, batting her eyelashes, "But I must be off to gather my things.  Transfiguration first for me, and I can be sure McGonagall won't go easy on the first day.  Ta-ta!"

            "We'd better grab our stuff, too," Harry said after she'd left, "I have a feeling Snape will be piling on the homework.  Coming, Hermione?"

            "No, I have everything I need already.  I'll just meet you there."

            The two boys headed up to the Gryffindor tower, grabbed their things, and then hurried down to the dungeons.  Hermione had saved seats for them on either side of her.  Harry sat to her right, alone at a table.  Hermione and Ron sat together.  The seat next to Ron had been empty, but was quickly filled by Lavender Brown, who had for some reason convinced Paravati Patil that they should move there.  Ron glanced that way, and Lavender gave him a wink and a smile.  Harry saw it, too.  Ron looked over to his friend, mouthing, "What was that all about?"  Harry just shrugged, though with a bit of a smile.

            "I should hope some of you did your work over the summer holidays, and did not leave it until the last day," Snape said the moment the bell rang, "Pass in your parchments now."

            Snape went on with his lesson.  Harry tried to pay attention, but his mind kept wandering.  He looked lazily around the room, but then did a double take, looking at everyone more carefully.  Draco wasn't there.

            It was about ten minutes later that suddenly the door burst open and in rushed Draco Malfoy.  He looked more than a little disheveled, but was as calm as ever as he walked over to Snape.  In low tones, he explained something to him.

            "Very well," Snape said, "We're working in partners.  Take a seat wherever there's an empty one."

            Draco looked around and found that the only person in the room without a partner was Harry.  He gave the boy a dark look and muttered something that Harry was sure wasn't very nice, but eventually Draco skulked his way to the stool.  Snape continued his lesson.

            Harry tried more than once to talk to Draco, but the boy simply ignored him, only speaking to ask Harry for this or that ingredient.  It was a very dismal lesson and to top it all off, Snape gave them a three-parchment paper to write on the effects of the Pulsating Potion.  When the bell rang, Draco hurried out of his seat and towards the door but much to Harry's, and probably even his own surprise, Ron hurried right after him.

            "Hey Draco, why were you late today?"

            "None of your business, Weasley," Draco said through clenched teeth as he marched down the corridors, Ron following him and Harry and Hermione coming right after.

            "Well, I'd still like to know."

            "Good for you."

            "You have to tell me some time."

            "No, actually, I don't."

            "I'll annoy you constantly until you do."

            "Heh, go ahead and try."

            "Why were you late today, Draco?  Why were you late today, Draco?  Why were you late today, Draco?  Why were you late tod—"

            "Fine!" Draco yelled, "Could you get any more childish?  If you must know, I had a little trouble getting out of bed."

            "Everyone sleeps late on the first day," Ron shrugged, clearly trying to keep civil.

            "I wish it were that simple, Weasley," Draco said, a definite ice in his voice, "Though my being a sound sleeper did have something to do with it."

            Without so much as another word, he walked away, robes billowing out slightly behind him.

            "Now what did he mean by that?" Ron asked, cocking his head to the side.

            "I don't know," Harry said with a shrug, "At least he talked to us.  C'mon, I want to get to Prep and see who this mystery teacher is."

            Getting from the dungeons to the fourth floor gave them quite a bit of exercise, but the three got there on time, even if they were a little out of breath.  Whatever breath Harry did have, however, left him instantly when he saw the very familiar face of their new teacher.

            "Sirius?!" Harry gasped, rushing up to his godfather.

            "Hey, Harry," Sirius said, beaming wide enough to rival Lockhart's grins, "Surprised you, did I?"

            "Yeah!  Why didn't you tell me?!"

            "I thought it'd be a fun surprise," Sirius said, that smile not fading a bit, "Now sit down.  The bell's about to ring and I want to start things out right."

            Harry, Ron, and Hermione took seats up at the very front of the class.  It was interesting to watch people's reactions as they spotted Sirius.  Though a majority of them had forgotten all about Sirius Black, a fair number gaped when they walked in.  A few looked even terrified, including Neville Longbottom, who walked right back out after he'd come in.  Dean Thomas eventually managed to convince him he would live through the lesson.  When the bell finally rang, Sirius rubbed his hands together, looking at everyone happily.

            "Welcome to Preparing for the Future," he said, "Or as it is more lovingly called, Prep class.  I'm Professor Black, but you can call me Sirius.  Unless of course your jokes about my name stink, then we're sticking to that Professor stuff."

            A few people smiled.

            "Now I'd like to go over the rules.  Rule number one:  There are no rules.  This class is open to discussion and as long as you be respectful to others then it's whatever you feel like saying."

            Quite a few more smiles blossomed.

            "Now, I'd really hate for you to think of me as your teacher.  Makes me feel old.  I'll just be a friend who happens to stand in front of the class.  This is a class of boundless free thinking where you can say whatever pops into your head, and you don't have to worry about detention or all that nonsense."

            At this, a few people gave approving whoops.

            "But most importantly of all," Sirius said, "I hate paperwork.  I hate filling things out or grading things or anything of that sort.  So this is a class of no homework." 

            The whole class cheered loudly, some people whistling and pounding on their desks.  Sirius beamed, very pleased with his apparent popularity.  Hermione, however, shook her head sadly.

            "He just opened the door to total chaos," she sighed to Harry, "That smile won't last a week."

~*~*~

A/N:  Short, yes.  And not particularly exciting.  But this is what happens when you write so late into the night it becomes morning. *big yawn*  And just to let you know, Draco did not sleep in to be late for Potions.  There's a big reason why his was late, but you people might yell at me, so that'll just come later. ^_^

            Thank you to everyone who reviewed!

**SuNnY GuRL:**  *laughs*  Whee, I have a shrine! ^_^  Thanks!  And book 5 is now supposed to come out at the end of school term in the UK. *cheers*  If WB had it's way, it would have come out at Christmas 2002, but JKR put her foot down.  Hurray for JK!

**Raven of Death:**  ^_^  Yeah, Ron's having a bit of trouble, (you think it's bad now… ^_^) but he's trying.  Thanks!

**Lady Aquila:**  Thanks!

**Allison:**  *shuffles slowly to room*  I's sorry.  'Twas a necessary evil.  But does this count as being kinda nice?  Ron wasn't being a jerk to him.  And I was nice to Sirius.  *looks pleadingly*  Okay, so sticking him in charge of a large group of teenagers might not be called the nicest thing to do, but it's a job.  Ah, please get chapter 7 up!

**sweets:**  Thanks!  Both speculations are wrong, though.  That's to come later, when Draco actually has more than a twenty-second conversation with the rest of 'em.

**Sandrine Black:**  Thanks!  I expect on putting in a lot more complications.  And not just Draco against the rest of the group.  *grins maliciously*

**greg:**  Yah, the Super Bowl!  That was so awesome!  Go Patriots! ^_^  Thanks.

**Moon Warrior:**  As long as you keep emailing me your new stories and/or chapter, I'm happy. ^_^

**Jeanne:**  Sorry, I never was one for good manners. ^_^  Thanks!

**Lady Grizabella:**  lol.  In one of my books, I have someone get transported to a whole different world and what not, and one of her first concerns is where to find a bathroom. ^_^  It's a very important topic!  Oh, but I hope you get going on "Seeker of Souls"!!!  Crikey, I hate being left hanging like that!  Thanks!

**abbey:**  Yeah, Azar is my idealistic self.  Idealistic being the key word there. ^_^  Thanks! *laughs*  'BAD RON!!'

**Kelly:**  *bows head in shame*  I know.  I've been bad about revising my stuff, and so have let far too many grammatical errors slip through.  A side effect of writing things very late at night. *sigh*  No need to apologize.  School: a necessary evil. ^_^  Thanks! *grins*  Of course they would have only talked.  I can't imagine them doing anything else. ^_^  And Ron's middle name:  Well, Molly is the pet name for Mary (go figure), so I decided that his mom's name is Mary.  I just figured it'd be a nice thing to have in there if ever Ron needed to be made fun of. ^_^

**Mrs. Grim:**  I know.  Bad Hermione!  Oh, I'm glad you liked the explanation of Ron being chosen!  I was so unsure of that.  Thanks!

**Lupin's Niece AJ:**  I used to hate Draco, too, until I started writing fanfics.  Strange thing, the mind.  *grins*  Thanks!

**Nallen Riddle:**  Thanks!  Hm…okay, I'll actually say something about it.  Yes, Draco's going to fall in love with a special girl.  In fact, he already is in love.  I won't tell ya who, 'cause that's to come later, but just to ease your mind. ^_^

            Thanks all!

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	8. Jitries

Chapter 8:  Jitries

            "So now you're a teacher, just like that?" Hermione asked, snapping her fingers.  Sirius decided to let the rest of the class be free time, so naturally the trio had gone to his desk to get the details.

            "It was far from that easy, Hermione," Sirius laughed, "But to save you a long story, yes.  I'm really not made for the job, but Albus seemed to think it'd be a good experience."

            "For you?" Harry asked, a little lost.

            "Who knows?" Sirius shrugged, "As long as I have a job, I couldn't care less."

            "So what is the class about?" Hermione asked, undoubtedly eager to get an early start on notes.

            "Basically we explore different career opportunities and such, trying to help you guys decide what you're going to do after Hogwarts."

            "Why would you want to be a teacher, of all things?" Ron said, looking as if the very idea was a large pile of dragon dung.  A very large pile. "I plan on getting out of here and staying out."

            "Well, I decided to do it because of what I'd been through.  I slept through Prep class because the teacher was so boring, and I missed a lot of stuff I could have used.  I figure if I make this class fun, you guys might actually learn something."

            "But don't you think it a little…unwise to let it be so…free?" Hermione said, clearly trying to find a nice way of saying, "Are you out of your mind?!"

            "Why?" Sirius shrugged, far from catching her drift. "Freedom is a good thing.  All of you will have to be independent one day, so why not start early?"

            The trio looked at each other, trying not to laugh.  Oh yes, they were so dependent upon their teachers.

            "I think you underestimate us, Sirius," Harry smiled.

            "Really?  Well, naturally I don't mean you three," Sirius said, toying with an inkwell, "I mean, you've been through a lot for your age.  It's the others that need freedom."

            Harry shook his head.  "Giving a class freedom, Sirius, is like making friends with a snake:  sure it might work for a while, but in the end you get bit."

            The inkwell fell from Sirius' hands, smashing against the ground and flinging bits of glass and black ink everywhere.  Sirius didn't seem to notice.  He was staring at Harry as if he'd just sworn his allegiance to Voldemort.

            "Sirius?  You all right?" Harry asked, a little worried.

            "F-fine," Sirius murmured, giving his head a shake but that look of horror still there, "It just slipped.  C-could you three clean it up?  I've got to…talk to someone."

            Before they could answer, he hurried out the door.

            "Now what was that about?" Ron asked.

            "I dunno.  Was it what I said?"

            "Maybe he finally realized what he was getting himself into," Hermione said, pulling out her wand and cleaning up the mess.

            "No.  That wasn't it…  I wish people would tell me things," Harry said, frowning slightly.

            "Not me." Ron shook his head.  "Ignorance is bliss, as they say."

            "So that explains your constant cheerful mood," Hermione said, smiling.

            "You'd think she'd be nicer to me," Ron shrugged, looking at Harry, "But it just seems to get worse every day.  I don't know why I put up with her."

            Hermione's smile got bigger and she stood on tiptoe, whispering something into Ron's ear.  Whatever it was, Ron smiled broadly.  "Ah, now I remember," he said.

            Harry's jaw went a little slack.  "Sometimes I wish you guys had never found out you liked each other."

            A few baby talk moments and a bell later, Harry headed quickly for the Great Hall, having left Ron and Hermione behind to follow whenever they could tear their eyes away from each other.

            "Hey, Harry."

            Harry turned around to find James Bell standing by the Great Hall doors that he had so recently walked through.

            "Oh, hi, James," he said with a smile, turning back and heading for the Gryffindor table.

            "Um, Harry?" James asked, hurrying after him, "Could…could I sit with you?"

            "Oh… Well, why don't you want to sit with the other Hufflepuffs?"

            "I always sat with Katie for lunch," he answered quietly, watching his hands twisting nervously.

            "Oh, sure.  I'd be happy for the company."  Harry smiled.

            James brightened instantly, looking as if Harry was his new best friend.  They grabbed some food, sitting down and saving enough spots for the rest.

            "So, how was your summer?"

            "Good.  Interesting," James added with a smile, "Katie was very busy.  She got a job at Highland Architecture.  Right now she's just sorting owl mail and stuff, but she hopes to be an architect someday.  She has so many models and prototypes around the house, it's driving Trisha mad."

            "Trisha?" Harry asked.

            "Trisha's my step-mum.  She's not Katie's real mum either.  Katie's from my dad's first marriage, I'm from the second, and Trisha's his third."

            Harry nodded, trying to act as if the news hadn't surprised him in the least.

            "Who do we have here?" Azar had just appeared behind them, trying to get a good look at James.  "Oh, it's mini-Bell!"

            James smiled awkwardly, unsure if he was supposed to take it as a joke or an insult.

            "Yep, it's James.  He'll be joining us for lunch."

            "Oh how perfectly spiffing," Azar said, in a voice that sounded like royalty, as she hopped on, then over the table to sit across from Harry, "I do enjoy greeting—whoops, silly me.  Eating new people."

            James glanced at Harry with wide eyes.

            "You'll get used to it," he said in a feigned whisper.

            "Or you'll have a psychotic episode," Azar put in casually, "Just like poor Delia.  She started to think she was a cat.  Shame they had to take her away; she was really starting to get interesting."  Azar sighed, taking a bite of her food.

            Harry chuckled.  James was mortified.

            "Hey Harry, why'd you hurry off like that?" Ron asked, coming up and sitting next to Azar, Hermione taking her place next to him.

            "Sorry, Ron, but I wanted to leave before the snogging began," Harry smiled.

            "Oh, okay," Ron said with a nod, "Hey, who's the kid?"

            "James Bell.  You remember him, right?  Katie's brother?"

            "Oh yeah, hey James," Ron replied, though it was clear by the look on his face that he was still trying to figure out if he'd seen James before.

            "Well, well, aren't we the happy family?"

            Draco stood behind Harry, his arms folded and a smirk on his face, though his eyes held the look of an abandoned child.

            "Hello, Draco," Harry said as affably as possible, "Want to join us for lunch?"

            "I don't think so, Potter.  I sit with my own kind.  Besides, I see you've already found someone to fill my seat," Draco said, looking loathsomely at James, "I guess you really must have had a poor opinion of me, for my replacement to be a Hufflepuff."

            James stared down at his food, fiddling aimlessly with a fork and going a little red in the face.  Everyone was silent, unsure of how to get around this without things getting ugly.  Suddenly Hermione stood up sharply from her seat, her face like someone who was preparing to go into battle.

            "Look, Draco, I know things in your life haven't been the smoothest of sailing right now, but that's no reason to turn your back on everyone.  Or to put others down."

            "Isn't it?"

            Hermione's frown deepened.  "No, it isn't.  All of us have been through hard times; that's life.  Things will change, and then you'll just regret all you said and did while you were angry at the world.  You're hurting everyone, you most of all."

            "Yeah?" Draco scoffed, "Well send me an owl about it and see if I care."

            Hermione was livid.  "Draco, grow up!" she yelled, going red in the face, "I'm sick of this!  We're trying our best, okay?  We're being as kind and caring as humanly possible, but you insist on acting like a… arse!"

            "Well, maybe if I hadn't been abandoned in the first place, I wouldn't feel this way!" Draco yelled back, teeth gritted, "I might as well not have existed for all you cared!  'Oh, we made Draco our friend, so now we can ignore him 'cause he's gonna like us no matter what.'  That's not how it works!  Despite popular belief, I do have feelings!  Unlike some people!"

            With that, he stormed off and out of the hall.  Hermione sat down in a huff, staring daggers at no one in particular, then jolting up as quickly as she had sat.

            "I can't stand that boy!  I'm going to Care of Magical Creatures early!" she exclaimed, heading for the door.

            Ron looked at his unfinished plate of food, then to Hermione's retreating figure.  He hastily got up and went after her, deciding this was a little more important than an empty stomach.

            "I think I'll go to class now, too," Harry said to Azar and James, "See you two later."

            Harry hurried out, catching up with Ron and Hermione right outside.

            "The nerve of him!" Hermione ranted, "We try and try and try, and he just doesn't even care!  Someone needs to give him a good knock upside the head!"

            "I volunteer," Ron said jokingly.

            Hermione gave him an exasperated look, but there was no mistaking the slight upturning of the corners of her mouth.

            "Let's move onto another topic," Harry said, "Like what we're doing in class today."

            "That's not much help, considering we have it with him."

            "And with Professor Lamina," Ron said, making a face, "She's so boring, I almost wish we were going to History of Magic."

            Hagrid's hut was clearly visible now and Harry saw a familiar figure working beside it.  But it definitely wasn't Professor Lamina.

            All three of them recognized the form at the same time and tore off running for it.  The man didn't hear them as they came up, keeping his back to them.

            "All right there, Hagrid?" Harry asked, poorly trying to contain a grin.

            Hagrid turned around, and when he saw his company, his eyes crinkled in a smile.  "Come here, yeh three!" he laughed, sweeping the whole group up in his arms.

            A very jovial embrace and a few bruised ribs later, they pulled apart, still beaming.

            "So how was a year with the giants, Hagrid?" Hermione asked as they headed around Hagrid's hut to the back.

            "Weren't too bad.  A lil' hard at firs', 'cause o' them being a bit gruff, but they soon took a shine ter me an' things're pleasan'.  Blimey, yeh three look so diff'ren'!  I migh' have been gone fer five years fer how yeh've grown."

            "We're so glad you're back, Hagrid," Hermione said.

            "Yeah, I don't think I could've taken another year with that lame Lamina," Ron added.

            "So what are we doing in class today?"

            Hagrid's face brightened even more.  "Well, I s'pose it dun matter if I spoil the surprise," he said happily, heading for ten crates within the paddock, "I got 'em while I was in Norway."

            A little apprehensively, the trio followed him.

            "Yeh might wan' ter be a lil' quiet.  They may be asleep," Hagrid warned, gently lifting off one of the lids.

            For a while, the three friends stayed back, each unwilling to be the first to peer inside.  It wasn't until Hagrid beckoned them forward that they finally plucked up enough courage to look.

            "They're adorable!" Hermione exclaimed in a whisper.

            Hagrid smiled appreciatively.  Inside the crate, along with straw padding and four bowls for food and water, were two creatures a little larger than normal housecats.  Their long fur was a rich earth brown, and grew in even longer and thicker patches on their feet.  Long ears lay back on their sleeping heads.  Their noses were long and pointed, tipped slightly downward.

            One of them was curled in a tight ball, but the other was sprawled out, its legs twitching every once in a while as if it was trying to run in its sleep.  Either its body was very short, or its legs were very long.  Its feet were definitely too big for its body, and its tail was short and stubby, almost nonexistent, like that of a hamster.

            "What are they called, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, her voice in a quiet awe.

            "Jitries.  Sweet creatures, most o' the time.  And great trackers.  Better 'en any bloodhound.  And if they get frighterned, they can disapparate."  Hagrid beamed, as if showing off his clever son.  "Mind you, the furthest any of 'em has done so was abou' fifty meters, but it's still somethin'.  Yeh'll get in pairs and have one jitry between yeh.  It'll be a project fer the whole year."

            "Can we pet them?" Hermione asked anxiously.

            " 'Course you can.  Jest be gentle."

            "Hey there, little guy," Ron said amiably, reaching down to pet the one whose legs were twitching.

            After a few nudges, it woke up.  It was plain that it still felt like sleeping.  With a growl, its paw lunged forward, claws out.  Ron gave a yell, falling backward.

            "It nearly took my hand off!"

            "Loyal as anything, jitries," Hagrid chuckled, "But never annoy them when they're sleepin'.  They're more nigh' creatures, so they sleep most o' the day."

            "You might want to wake them up before class then, Hagrid, or a couple of people will get a nasty shock," Harry smiled.

            "I guess I can assume from that statement that it's back to the old getting-mauled-by-monsters Care of Magical Creatures," a lazy voice drawled from nearby.

            Draco leaned against the side of the hut, watching them lazily.  Hermione's face hardened instantly.  She reached into the crate, picking up the jitry that was curled up in a ball.  Its bright green eyes opened lazily and it gave a wide yawn, showing a small mouth of pointed teeth and a pink tongue.

            "Careful, Draco, or I might sick this thing on you," she said, somewhere between joking and being utterly serious.

            "That thing?" he laughed, "That's nothing but a teddy bear wannabe."

            He walked over to the crate and reached in to pick up the other jitry.  Apparently it still wanted to sleep.

            "Blimey, they're quick!" Draco said, pinching a spot on his hand to stop the bleeding where the jitry's claw had dug in.

            By then the rest of the class was beginning to arrive, and Hagrid soon started.  He explained the project and told the class what he'd just told Harry, Ron, and Hermione about jitries.

            "Righ' then!  Pair off!"

            There was a good deal of shuffling and chatter as the class partnered up.  Ron and Hermione were a pair, same with Seamus and Dean, and, much to Harry's surprise, Neville and Lavender.  Harry soon realized that there was no one left to partner up with but…

            "Harry, you an' Draco pair off an' we'll get this started."

            A little sulkily, Draco trudged over to Harry, his eyes narrowed.  Hagrid passed out colored collars to each group.  Their first job was to put this on their jitry so as they could tell them apart.  This was a far harder task then it seemed, for jitries seemed to like being collared as much as they liked being woken in the day.

            "Hurry, Draco!  I can't hold him much longer!"

            "I can't very well do it with his legs flinging about like that, now can I?!"

            There was a sudden pop! and the jitry disappeared from Harry's grasp and re-emerged about five feet away.

            "Grab him!" Harry yelled at Draco.

            Draco dived forward, but with another pop! the jintry was gone and back by Harry's side.  Harry quickly grabbed hold of its hind legs.  It tried to turn around, confused, but couldn't squirm out.

            "Collar now, Draco!"

            Draco rushed forward and managed to buckle the collar on before the jitry disappeared.  When he popped up again, he began to scratch furiously at it, disapparating now and again as if hoping the collar might be left behind.

            "Well," Draco smiled, flicking the dirt off his robes, "that was fun."

            He and Harry grinned at each other a moment, then Draco stiffened his face back into the angry look he had been wearing the whole day.  He walked off, not wanting to have anything more to do with Harry Potter.  Harry sighed, looking around.  Apparently everyone else was having as rough a time as he and Draco had.  When class finally ended, everyone was a little worn out and some were thoroughly annoyed.

            "Those things are ruthless," Ron groaned, massaging his backside where he had landed after tripping in his attempt to keep hold of his jitry.

            "How was being partners with Draco?"

            "Okay, until he remembered he was supposed to hate me.  If he doesn't get over this, it'll be a very long year."

            Apparently Hermione had forgotten she was angry with Draco.  She sighed, saying "I wish the Revero Detinu spell did give us the ability to speak mentally to each other.  Then I could talk to Draco.  I feel so awful about everything…"

            That night, Harry and Ron sat in a corner of the common room, talking.  Hermione had gone off early to bed.

            "Her birthday's coming up real soon," Ron said without enthusiasm.

            Harry nodded silently.

            "We're going to do something for it, of course, but with all this going on…  I just know she wouldn't be completely happy."

            "Then there's only one thing we can do," Harry said.

            Ron nodded, but his face looked like that of a soldier going to fight a battle he couldn't win.

~*~*~

A/N:  *ducks tomatoes*  Okay, I know the where-Hagrid-was-all-this-time excuse was weak to say the least, but I'd written myself into a corner and had to find a way out.  Sorry!  Please forgive me!

            Also, don't go trying to look 'jitry' up in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, because I made them up.  I don't have the book, so I had to wing it. ^_^

            Well, my one goal this weekend was to finish and post this chapter!  Hurray, I actually did it! *grin*  So what if it's very, very late Saturday night? (or early Sunday morning, if you see it that way. ^_^)

            Thank you everyone who reviewed!  I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart!

**Sandrine Black:**  ^_^  Yeah, I found out more than once that the consequences of checking "Just in" right when I should be getting off results in me not getting off.  Thank you!

**MIDNIGHT:**  Thanks!

**SuNnY GuRL:**  Thanks!

**Super saya-jin Gotan:**  *laugh*  Naw, that pun can never be overused! ^_^  Thanks!

**Jeanne:**  Heehee, thanks.  More about Prep class later, when it starts more.

**Kelly:**  To err is human. *grin*  "Does Malfoy like Azar?"  Hm…maybe, maybe not.  ^_^  Yah, I guess this means a new chapter is going up in your story, eh? *claps happily*  Thanks!

**abbey:**  *grin*  Thank you!

**Allison:**  *grins*  Girl, you are too funny.  And very good knowing it was Sirius.  I wasn't positive myself who it should be until I posted it. ^_^  Thanks!  And I hope this is enough to get you to post!  Draco was smiling sincerely for a while there!  And I promise that next chapter there will be a lot more attempts at re-binding the friendship!  *gets on knees, pleading*  You're making us all suffer!

**Nallen Riddle:**  You'll find out… ^_^  Thanks!

**Moon Warrior:**  *grins*  Naw, you're not being idiotic.  If anyone guesses the reason, I'll give 'em fifty bucks. (Yeah, good luck holding me to it. ^-^)  *laughs*  Thanks, MW!  PS- I'd love to see an update from you anytime soon… ^-^

**Ottilchen:**  Thanks!  Draco and Herm… I shan't say nothing 'til you say please. ^_^  And I'll definitely have more of those two things. ^_^

**yerbroham:**  Well, I emailed you about this, right? (Crikey, it has been a while since I posted.)  Thanks so much for the reviews!!!

**Princess:**  Thank you!

**Lupin's Niece AJ:**  lol. ^_^  Thanks!

**summersun:**  Thanks!

**sweets:**  Thanks!  Hope you had a nice trip.  Hehe, I'm gonna have fun writing more Prep class scenes. ^_^

**Julia:**  Thanks!  And yes, Percy's coming into the picture soon again. lol. ^_^

**limasaiv:**  Thanks!  And we find out next chapter why Draco was late. (Hopefully I'll be quicker in writing that one than I was with this.)

            Okay, I'm going to try to really get the momentum of this fic going now, so hopefully I'll get things done quicker. ^-^  Thanks, you all!

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	9. Bad Advice

Chapter 9:  Bad Advice

            It wasn't until that Saturday that Harry and Ron moved into action.  Draco had been avoiding them, naturally, but they also wanted to talk with him in a quiet place; somewhere Hermione wouldn't pop in on the conversation.

            "What if he doesn't come?" Ron said, half hopefully, half in doubt.

            "He will.  He always comes when Madam Pince leaves."

            "But what if she comes back early?"

            "We'll have fifteen minutes, at least.  I can't imagine her being any quicker with her tea."

            "Do you really think he'll listen to us?"

            "At least it's worth a try."

            Ron looked silently at the library door for a moment, then turned anxiously back to Harry.  "I still don't know.  Maybe we should do this aft…"

            The loud squeak of rusty door hinges caused Ron to freeze mid-sentence.  Both boys turned quickly in their hiding place behind a bookshelf, peering at the figure that had just entered the library.  It was Draco.  He looked cautiously to the left and right, then closed the door as quietly as possible.  Taking careful footsteps that echoed nonetheless in the empty library, he headed toward Harry and Ron's bookshelf.

            Draco went a little past it, finally sitting at a table and opening the book he had been carrying.  He sat silently, reading.  Noiselessly, Harry and Ron walked up behind him.

            "Draco, we want to talk to you."

            Draco jumped at the words, though getting his composure back quick enough to keep from falling off his chair.  Wheeling around to face Harry and Ron, his eyes turned into slits of gray clouds.

            "Well bully for you.  Too bad I don't share the sentiment," he drawled, standing to leave.

            Ron grabbed the chair and turned toward Harry, who gently, but firmly set Draco back down in it.

            "You're going to hear us out, Draco," Harry said sternly.

            Draco didn't say anything, but scowled deeply.

            "You've been bottling everything up, Draco," Ron said, looking down at the top of Draco's head from his spot still behind the chair, "And it's all seeping out in the worse way."

            "We want to make things right," Harry added quietly, "This is not the way to start the year.  Let's bury the hatchet.  Hermione's birthday is in two weeks.  We're having a party on the quidditch pitch; we'd like to invite you."

            "I'd rather go live the in the Forbidden Forest," Draco snarled, pushing Harry back so he could stand up.  He felt uncomfortable trapped in the chair.

            "Would it kill you?" Ron scoffed, putting his hands on his hips, "Just come, Draco."

            "Why should I?" Draco said quietly, eyes narrowing further, if that was possible.

            "Because you're her friend.  She wants you there," Harry said, "And so do we.  You're our friend, too."

            "I have no friends," the boy hissed, "Only back-stabbing Gryffindors."

            He turned to leave, but Ron stopped him, grabbing his shoulder.

            "Okay, so we weren't there for you over the summer," he said firmly, "We're sorry.  It may sound harsh, but we're just not used to you.  That's all changed now.  Be there for Hermione.  She's been depressed over this since the start of school.  At least forgive her."

            "She deserves whatever she gets.  She's nothing but a self-centered, big-headed little bit-"

            Ron didn't let him finish.  His fist caught Draco across the face, and he would have willingly done more if Harry hadn't held him back.  Draco stared loathingly at Ron, holding a hand up to his jaw.

            "Ron.  Ron!  Stop!  It's not worth it!" Harry said, struggling to keep his friend calm.

            "Did you hear what he called her?!  Like he should talk.  No one's more self-centered and big-headed than that Death Eater wannabe!"

            Draco launched himself forward, but Harry stopped him with his hand before he could land a punch.  Both boys tried to get to each other, Harry in the middle and having a little trouble.

            "Hey, stop it, you two!  STOP!" Harry yelled, his words actually having some effect, "I thought we were past the name-calling."

            "So did I, but if he's going to go on like that then—"

            "Oh yeah, Weasley, like you haven't had a part in it."

            "At least I didn't start it, you little ferret."

            "Hey, enough of that!" Harry said sternly, suddenly acting very much like the father of two young children, "Ron, apologize."

            "I will if he says he's sorry about what he called Hermione."

            Harry looked helplessly at Draco.  Looking down in a far corner, Draco said very quickly, "I'msorryforwhatIsaid."

            "Me, too," Ron said reluctantly, "Sorry.  I didn't mean it."

            It was quiet a moment, then Draco added, a little spitefully, "But I'm still not going to the party."

            Ron's eyes flashed dangerously, but Harry quickly answered.

            "Why not?"

            "You guys don't really want me there.  You're just inviting me to ease your precious conscious.  I'm not going to let you get away with it that easy."

            "No we aren't," Ron said.

            "Think about it, Weasley.  Do you really want to be my friend?"

            Ron looked at Draco a moment, then his gaze flickered away.  He glanced at Harry, unsure of what he should say.

            "You're coming, Draco!" Ron commanded furiously, trying to cover up the awkward silence, and his doubts, "I don't care if we have to bound you hand and foot and drag you there, but you're coming!"

            "That is if someone doesn't beat you to it," Draco said sullenly, staring at the wall.

            Ron and Harry looked at each other, uncertain.

            "What do you mean, Draco?"

            "Nothing…  Nothing," he repeated more firmly.

            "Draco, you can't say 'nothing' when you mean something," Harry said, "We're your friends.  Tell us."

            "It's nothing, okay?  I can take care of myself.  I don't need anyone."

            "Oh, let off it, Draco," Ron said, a little heatedly, "You don't have to be the pompous little Slytherin all the time, you know?"

            Draco's eyes narrowed into slits.  "Thanks, Ron.  That makes me feel so much better."

            He turned to go, but Ron quickly stepped in front of him.  "That's not what I meant.  You're acting like you think everyone expects you to:  haughty, indifferent, and callous.  But I know that's not you.  Act like yourself for once.  You can trust us, Draco."

            Draco glared at him a moment, glanced over at Harry, and then his head and shoulders drooped.

            "Fine.  You know how I said I had a little trouble getting out of bed our first day?  It had nothing to do with sleep-deprivation.  When I woke up, I found each arm and leg tied to one of my bedposts.  I felt like I was on a rack.  At least they were satisfied with tying me up and didn't try to stretch me, or I might actually be taller than Weasley right now."

            "Who would do that?" Harry asked, disgusted.

            "Some first years trying to show-off.  Anyone, really.  It took me quite a while to get out of that mess.  Nearly every morning I wake to another prank.  This morning, someone had made my bed curtains fuse together and I eventually crawled out underneath them."

            "Why don't you tell a teacher?"

            "Oh yeah, being a sniveling little tattle-tale will make me really popular."

            "So you're just going to let this continue?"

            "No wonder he didn't make it into Gryffindor," Ron muttered.  He wasn't as quiet as he meant to be, for Draco heard him.

            "Why would I want to be in Gryffindor, Weasley?" Draco said, a notable bitter twinge in his voice, "Slytherin is the noblest house of all."

            "Yeah, if you like dirty cheating rats as roommates."

            It didn't take a genius to know another row was on the way.  "Why don't you tell Snape, Draco?" Harry quickly intervened, "I'm sure he'd help you."

            Draco was quiet, as if thinking it over.  "I guess, maybe…"

            "Might be the first intelligent thing you've done all year," Ron said resentfully.

            Harry shot him a sharp look, clearly to remind him that their purpose was to make-up with Draco, not make things worse.  Ron looked a little sheepish.

            "Well, apparently you've been doing some serious arse-kissing, Weasley, because I can't imagine your 'intelligence' had any part to play in your becoming Head Boy.  What did they do, just pick the most pathetic person in the school?"

            Ron managed to keep his self-control intact, though his knuckles were white on his clenched fists and his jaw would surely break if he gritted his teeth any harder.

            "Draco, please," Harry said miserably.

            "It's your sidekick who needs a talking to, Potter.  He's the one who keeps this going, not me," Draco said angrily, gesturing at Ron.

            "Look, Draco," Ron said quietly, taking gentle hold of his forearm, "I'm sor—"

            He didn't get a chance to finish.  Draco screamed in pain, wrenching his left arm away from Ron and cradling it protectively.

            "God, Weasley, how thick can you be?!" he yelled angrily, "Most people learn the first time not to do something when it gets bad results, but you just keep going!"

            "What's wrong with your arm, Draco?" Harry said after a moment, more than a little curious.

            "Noth…" Apparently Draco realized that 'nothing' wouldn't cut it.  "Just a little sore.  That's all."

            "That's more than just a little sore, Draco.  That's painful.  Let me see."

            "No!" Draco said, his eyes going a little wide, clutching at his arm.

            Ron and Harry looked at each other, then advanced on Draco.

            "Draco, tell us what's going on," Ron said firmly, "What is wrong with your arm?"

            "None of your business!"

            "Yes it is," Ron said, grabbing his wrist.  Draco quickly yanked away from him.

            Now Ron and Harry were really determined.  Ron grabbed hold of Draco to keep him from getting away while Harry seized his wrist and went to pull back his sleeve.

            "It's my arm!" Draco yelled angrily, struggling against Harry to keep the sleeve down, "I think I know what's best for it!  Let me go!"

            Ron had just taken hold of Draco's other arm, straining to keep control of the struggling boy.  Harry, ignoring Draco kicking at his shins, grabbed hold of the sleeve and…

            The door creaked open.  All three heads turned to see Madam Pince standing in the doorway, a cup of tea in one hand and a look of utter shock on her sharp face.

            "What are you doing in here?!" she shrieked angrily, rushing in and ignoring the fact that most of her tea was sloshing onto the floor, "The library is off limits when I'm away!  Out, out, out!!!  You are banned for the rest of the day!"

            They were shooed out of there before any of them were even sure what happened.  Harry and Ron watched the door slam behind them, then Ron looked up.

            "He's gone!"

            Harry looked up, too, and saw Draco was nowhere in sight.  "He got away.  We have to find out what's wrong with his arm.  This isn't the best news…"

            "Well, at least we found out one thing," Ron said with a grin, "Those Slytherins actually have a sense of humor."

            Harry turned sharply to him, scowling, and Ron looked down at his feet.

            "Well, I didn't say it was a [i]good[i/] one."

****

            Harry and Ron didn't get much of a chance to talk to Draco over the next two weeks.  Not that they hadn't tried; Draco just had a knack for avoiding them.  In Care of Magical Creatures and Potions, he simply ignored them, no matter how annoying Ron got.

            So when that fateful Friday arrived, they were still unsure as to whether or not Draco would come.  They and Hermione had Prep for the last class of the day.  It had actually been quite interesting to watch Sirius' transformation with each class.  It was always chaos in there, naturally, and at first Sirius seemed happy about it, taking everything in stride.  Then his smile had become strained.  One day the smile disappeared altogether, replaced with a displeased scowl.  Today, however, he was just desperate.

            "Please, Mr. Finnigan, sit down.  Miss Brown, Miss Patil, please stop talking.  And whoever keeps making my chair pull out from underneath me, stop!"

            Whatever Sirius tried to do to regain control was ignored, the class too excited about the upcoming weekend to care.  He ended up declaring a free day, then slumping dejectedly into his chair.

            "We tried to warn you."

            Sirius looked up to see the trio at his desk.

            "It was a natural mistake, though," Hermione comforted him, "You've never had the experience, so you couldn't be expected to know.  And it's still fixable."

            "How?" Sirius groaned.

            "You need to be commanding.  No one, absolutely no one challenges your authority," Hermione said, as if she was an expert on the subject, "And fear is always an ally.  You were in Azkaban, after all.  Use it to your advantage."

            Sirius looked at her in surprise, then glanced at Harry.  "And she looked so innocent saying that."

            Hermione smiled.

            Suddenly an explosion blasted from a corner of the room, followed by the impressed guffaws of the boys over there.  This set Sirius off again.

            "Whining, bickering, throwing and exploding things, talking when I'm talking, and questions that have nothing to do with what the class is about!" Sirius said, running a swift hand through his hair, "Harry, are these your classmates or wild animals out to destroy every shred of sanity I possess?!"

            "Both," Harry smiled.

            Sirius stared at him darkly.  "You're not helping, Harry."

            Another explosion emitted from the corner, the whoops even louder this time.

            "I think I'll check that out," Ron said, his tone clearly showing he was going to join the fun rather than stop it.

            Hermione sighed.  "I guess I'll go chaperon," she said, following Ron.

            "So how's your school year going so far, Harry?" Sirius asked.

            "Pretty good.  The school part at least.  Draco's mad at us.  Did you ever fight much with Dad?"

            Sirius smiled.  "Not all friendships are like yours, Ron's and Hermione's, Harry.  We had plenty of fights.  Heh, we didn't even like each other the first time we met.  Things always worked out, though."

            "But… Well, Draco's just being so pig-headed.  How did you ever work through things like that?"

            "I wouldn't know.  I was normally the pig-headed one."

            Harry didn't get a chance to find out more, for something zoomed over their heads, ricocheting off the blackboard, bouncing off the ceiling, and finally landing on Sirius' desk.  They didn't even get a chance to see what it was before it exploded, burning everything Sirius had on the desk into cinders.  The corner filled with boys exploded with laughter.  Harry looked over and saw Hermione sitting on a desk in the middle of the group, wearing a very guilty grin.  Sirius stormed over there, livid.  Hermione had her hands over her mouth, but Harry could tell she was smiling and trying very hard not to laugh.

            "I'm sorry, Sirius," she said, the giggles taking over, "It wasn't supposed to go that way."

            "Detention, Miss Granger!" Sirius said, trying to keep his voice calm, but failing miserably.

            Hermione laughed.  "Okay, I promise not to do it again."

            "I'm not joking, Miss Granger!"

            The smile slowly faded from Hermione's face.  "You…you can't mean it, Sirius."

            "That's Professor Black, Miss Granger, and I mean every word," Sirius said, eyes flashing, "Mr. Filch will inform you—"

            "It's not fair!" Hermione yelled, standing up, "They spend the whole class period goofing off and blowing things up without you turning a hair, and I do one little thing wrong and you absolutely explode!"

            "Another word out of you, Miss Granger, and you'll be facing a week of detentions!"

            Hermione opened her mouth in protest, then thought better of it the longer she saw Sirius' unyielding countenance.  Eyes narrowing, she swept past him and sat sulkily in her seat.  Sirius looked up to see the rest of the class gawking at him.

            "Everyone back in their seats now," he said.

            The whole class did so without the slightest bit of hesitation, the shuffling of feet and the scraping of chairs the only sounds breaking the quiet.  Sirius walked to the front of the room, every eye watching him warily, except for Hermione.  She looked murderous.

            "I have tried to be reasonable," Sirius said, disdain strong in his voice, "I tried to make things fun and relaxed, but all you did was ignore me and goof off.  From now on, all that ends.  For the rest of the class period and as homework tonight, research twenty jobs:  starting salaries, education needed, environment, and the like.  It's due next class period.  You will then narrow the jobs down to one which you are interested in and then write a 60 centimeter paper on it."

            No groan of objection arose.  No one dared to say anything.  The room was as silent as a tomb until the bell rang, when everyone quickly and gratefully left the room.

            "What great advice, Hermione," Ron said contemptuously, as they walked to the Gryffindor tower " 'Be commanding.  Absolutely no one challenges your authority.' What a thing to tell a teacher."

            "Oh shut up," Hermione snapped.

~*~*~

A/N:  *deep sigh*  Well, that's the end of that chapter.  I don't know really what to think.  That ended completely opposite of what I was thinking.  It's so odd….  I hadn't planned that at all… *shrug*  I'm still in a bit of a weird daze-y sort of thing over it…

            Well, thank you everyone who reviewed!!!  I appreciate it SO much!

**Celtic Ember:**  ^_^  Well, I hope you like them.

**Taracolloween:**  Thanks! *cowers*  But I hear I might be told off in your next review… *grin*

**jona:**  Thanks!

**Jim:**  I'd love to post more often, but try and convince my teachers to give me less homework.  Somehow "I need to get my new chapter done" isn't a good excuse for them. ^_^  Thanks!

**abbey:**  Thanks!

**Raven of Death:**  lol.  I've been wondering that myself.  I used to hate the little ferret so much, but since I wrote fanfiction… it's strange.  Heehee, I only started watching Golden Girls because my grandma did and now I'm hooked. ^_^  Thanks!

**Jeanne:**  *grin*  Shan't say nothing 'til you say please.  I'm not very good at writing feasts right now.  Maybe soon. ^_^

**Nallen Riddle:**  ^_^  Thanks.

**summersun:**  ^_^  Thanks.  You'll find out…though how soon, I'm not sure.

**chrestomanci:**  ^_^  Aenigma Aeternus means "Riddles Forever".  I've a group of HP friends who call themselves the Riddles, so that's our motto. ^_^  Thanks!  I'll check it out.

**Moon Warrior:**  ^_^  I wish I could have one, too!  But I can't find any.  Can't imagine why…  Yes, more Percy soon.  And I share your sentiments about high school. Thanks!

**1726dedicatedfan:**  ^_^  Yeah, I really write too much.  Hope you didn't get in too much trouble.  Yeah, someone had to point out to me that I had left poor Hagrid in the dust.  I dunno, I just don't feel too partial toward him… *shrug*  Maybe it's a subconscious protest to WB's portral of him as more of Harry's father figure. ^_^  It's def. not like JKR, 'cause I seriously doubt if I didn't post for 2 years that I'd have people still waiting anxiously for the story. *grin*  Thank you, Andrew!

**sweets:**  Heehee…  I'm loving all the response to this.  Can't tell you now, though.  Thanks!

**Mrs. Grim:**  No, I don't really mind if people don't review, though I always LOVE getting the input.  ^_^  Heehee, I'm gonna be evil a bit longer.  I promise you'll find out eventually, though.  Ha, and I love the BS quote! ^_^  Thanks!

**jim:**  Thanks!

**illusoire:**  Depends on the strength of the signs of affection you mean.  Def. yes, though I try to keep it in moderation.  I'm not too good at writing romance.  But soon enough… oh wait, never mind. ^_^  Thanks

**Trisana:**  ^_^  Maybe.  Thanks!

**Julia:**  ^_^  Yes, more Percy soon.  I've got the idea formulate, just need to stick it on paper.  Thanks!

Thank you all!  I have to go really quick right now, so…

Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	10. The Return of Juniata

Chapter 10:  The Return of Juniata

            Needless to say, Hermione wasn't in the best of moods.  She stormed off to the library soon after class and the boys knew better than to follow her.  They hoped at least she'd cool down before the party after dinner.

            Everyone was outside, enjoying the warm weather and the air of freedom, which only summer vacation could bring, that still lingered.  Ron and Harry walked around the lake lazily, occasionally tossing stones in to try and hit the giant squid's tentacles.  The conversation jumped around easily, from the Quidditch World Cup in Argentina and Ron's chances at being the new Gryffindor chaser to Hermione and Azar's possible punishments for detention.

            Suddenly, Harry heard a small shuffling from behind them.  He took a quick look back, did a slight double take, then laughed silently to himself.

            "We're being followed," he told Ron quietly.

            Ron glanced back, whispering to Harry with a smile, "Looks like you've found yourself a puppy dog."

            Harry shrugged.  "At least he doesn't have a camera."

            James Bell was walking behind them.  He wasn't too close, probably unable to even hear what they were saying, but his face was eager, as if he wanted nothing more to be strolling and talking with the two friends.  His courage, however, didn't stretch as far as to actually go up to them.  He had enough nerve to sit with them at meals, but walking with them like he was up to their level… No, he much preferred just following in their wake.

            "Funny kid," Ron said as they kept walking.

            "Yeah, very quiet," Harry remarked, "Think he'd like to come to the party?  Hermione likes him well enough, and he'd be a helpful replacement if Draco decided not to come."

            "Sounds like a plan," Ron smiled, then turned back and called, "Hey James!  Come here."

            James looked like he was somewhere between elation and complete terror, but hurried up to them.

            "How'd you like to come to a party?" Harry asked.

            "W-with you guys?" James squeaked.

            "No, with the Slytherins.  Of course with us," Ron said, grinning, "It's Hermione's birthday, and we're celebrating after dinner."

            "I'd love to!" James exclaimed, smiling brightly.  But the smile quickly turned to concern.  "I don't have a present for her, though."

            "Just you being there is enough, James.  You don't have to bring a present," Harry assured him.

            James brightened.  "Okay then!  I'll see you at dinner."

            He hurried off, and Harry and Ron resumed their walk.

            "I always feel ten feet tall around that kid," Ron said.

            Harry laughed.  "He does have a way of making you feel important.  It makes me feel as though I've done something grand without realizing it."

            "Ha, look at that!  He's following us again."

            "You're joking!  I wonder why.  It's not like we don't enjoy talking with him."

            "Maybe he's studying us so he can figure out how to be as successful as we are," Ron said with a laugh.

            "No, I think he just likes walking back there.  You know, feeling like he's part of a group yet not really.  A fly on the wall, I guess."

            Ron shrugged.  "Seems like a dull way to live."

****

            "I swear, someday Snape's gonna wake up to find himself hanging from the ceiling by his ankles," Azar huffed, sitting sulkily at the table.

            Harry, Ron, Hermione, and James were already seated.  Hermione was eating her dinner sullenly.  Ron and Harry had to be trying to cheer her up, and even James put in a comforting notion now and then, but all to little avail.

            "What'd he do?" Harry asked.

            "Just acted like his normal charming self," she scoffed, "You'd think he'd have some sense of humor."

            Harry grinned, shaking his head and waiting for the story to come.

            "See, we were making Fortune Tonics in Potions.  Snape was going to test one, and since I'd been arguing with Wart—"

            "Wait, who's 'Wart'?" Harry interrupted.

            "Stewart Ackerley.  For some reason, he prefers being called Stew and not Wart."  She shrugged.  "I always hated stew."

            "Ackerley?" Ron asked, surprised.

            "No, stew stew, not Stew.  I much prefer soup.  Stew is just too pasty."

            "Ackerley?" Ron asked again, trying not to grin.

            Azar rolled her eyes.

            "Yeah, okay, but you were saying…" Harry said.

            "Yes, well, Snape told me off something awful for arguing with Wart.  He got off, of course, 'cause he's younger and was just delivering a message.  Then Snape said he'd be trying my tonic to see if the argument had got in the way of my making it.  I just happened to have that bottle of that Tongue-Twisting Tonic you'd given me in my pocket, and thought it might be…amusing…  Well, needless to say, he got very angry when he started talking backwards.  Then he wrote on a slip of paper that I had detention.  Can't take a joke, the prit.  I mean, it wasn't even on Filch's forbidden items list.  I should know, I've read it."

            "Well it sure will be now," Harry smiled.

            James' mouth was slightly ajar, a look of pure awe on his face.

            "Hermione got detention, too," Ron said without thinking.

            Hermione, whose mood had improved greatly upon hearing Azar's story, gave him a dark look.

            "You're joking!" Azar exclaimed, "Our illustrious Head Girl got a detention?  From whom?"

            "Sirius," Harry said, a little glumly, "It was one of those 'last straw' things."

            If Azar's eyes weren't bugged out before, they sure were now.  "Sirius?  You can't be serious!"

            "I'm not; I'm Harry."

            "Oh shut up, Harry legs.  That joke is way too overused.  What'd you do, Herm?"

            Hermione couldn't help a grin from coming to her face.  "There was a group of boys in the corner showing off various ways of exploding quills.  I watched a few, but it was so…well, wrong.  No creativity, and they were using the simplest of spells.  So I decided to show them how to do it right.  It got a little…out of hand, and Sirius wasn't too pleased."

            Azar laughed.  "I would have loved to see that, Herm."

            "It was, actually, quite funny, until Sirius gave me the detention.  It was so unfair!  I did just one innocent explosion; it's not like I'd been doing it all class.  I swear, it's sexist!  Boys are expected to be out of control and rambunctious, so they don't get in trouble for being so, but if a girl does it, well then—"

            "Whoa, down girl," Azar said, patting Hermione's head, "You were just the most convenient to blame, that's all.  No need to make a federal case of it, Herm."

            Hermione glowered at her, muttering under her breath, "-mione."

            By the end of the meal, however, Hermione had cheered up.  It's not easy to stay angry when you know there's a party being held for you in a few minutes.  James ran off to his common room for a moment, but the rest of them headed out happily for the grounds.  They'd set a table up in an open area of the grounds, covered with more Cauldron Cakes, Chocolate Frogs, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans than they could possibly eat.  By the table were half a dozen brooms, the purpose of which was anybody's guess.

            They sat, talking and eating for a while until James came back.  In his hand he had a bouquet of flowers that had once been purple, but now were speckled with gold and red.

            "I'm sorry," he said sheepishly, "I wanted them to be Gryffindor colors but I kinda messed up on the magic."

            "They're beautiful," Hermione smiled, mussing up his hair.

            She looked up at the castle doors hopefully, glancing at Harry in a dejected sort of way.  There was no need to say why.

            "Well, hey, let's get a move on," Azar said, trying to liven things up, "How 'bout capture the flag?"

            "Sure," Hermione said with a strained smile, "Sounds great."

            It was then Draco came out.  Whatever relief Harry felt at seeing him was surpassed by the regret of how forcefully they had invited him.  Draco's scowl was so deep and his stare so threatening that he looked like he'd been caught in a sudden downpour, and would gladly bring the storm with him.  He stood stiffly, looking at Harry as if to prove that him coming to the party was pointless.  But then Hermione spotted him.  A smile broke onto her face and, before he could even think to object, she ran up and threw her arms around him.  She might as well have planted her lips on his for all the surprise it caused.

            "I am so sorry," she said, hugging him tight.

            The shock slowly ebbed away from Draco's face, softening into a smile that he didn't even try to hide as he hugged her back.  "Hey, no, it's fine.  She was dead long ago, to me.  I was just being a jerk."

            Hermione pulled out from him, still smiling.  Then she grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the group.  "You're on Ron's and my team.  Since you're a Seeker, he's a Chaser, and I'm a Beater, we'll blow those three out of the sky!"

            It wasn't until sunset that they touched ground again, and only then to open the presents.  They were almost in complete darkness when they finally finished, the lights coming from the castle windows the only reason they could still see each other.

            "Race you back to the common room, Hermione," Ron grinned, taking off before she could answer.  Laughing, she ran after him.

            "Figures," Draco said as the two disappeared into the school, "Ron disappears when it's just about time to clean up."

            Harry smiled.  The change that had come over Draco that evening was a full one hundred eighty degrees.  It was as if that last summer hadn't happened at all, like they were starting off right after the end of their sixth year.

            The last sweets were finally bagged and the table gone, so the remaining four lay on the grass awhile, staring at the stars for no reason at all.

            "Is this Hogwarts Castle?" came a voice from above them.

            They jumped slightly, sitting up.  Harry felt his heart give a leap.  That long, greasy hair pulled back in a loose knot, that tight, sallow skin, those cold black eyes:  it was Juniata Snape.  Harry had met her the previous year when she taught him chemistry at a muggle school.  It wasn't until he wrote to Sirius, however, that he'd found out she was Snape's younger sister, and a squib.  Her eyes had fallen on Harry, and he wondered if she recognized him as 'Gary Trotter', his alias during his short few months living as a muggle.

            "Yes, it is," Azar answered a little suspiciously.

            "Thank you," the woman said tersely, heading on towards Hogwarts with a suitcase in hand.

            No sooner had Harry felt relief sweeping over him, however, than she called back without turning around, "It was nice to see you again, 'Mr. Trotter'."

            "Who was that?" Azar asked when the woman was out of earshot.

            "Snape's little sister," Harry answered.

            "Snape's got a sister?" Draco asked, looking back at Juniata.

            "Yeah, and they might as well be twins for looks and attitude.  But what is she doing here?  She's a squib."

            They stayed outside for only a little while longer, then Harry and Azar headed off, James and Draco following a little far behind.

            "You know, I'm really glad Draco came," Azar said.

            He wasn't sure if it was the comment so much as the tone of her voice, but something about what she said made Harry suspicious.

            He stopped, looking questionably at Azar.  "What'd you do?"

            "Nothing," she said in a playful tone, swinging her arm and holding his hand tight.

            "C'mon.  You talked to him, right?  What'd you say?  I knew he didn't come just because Ron and I told him to."

            "It's a lovely night, isn't it?" she remarked, looking up and walking on.

            "Get moving, lovebirds," Draco said, coming up from behind them, "You're blocking the path."

            "Oh really?"

            Azar reached out around his neck, taking him in something between a hug and a headlock.  Draco struggled half-heartedly, but soon conceded to his fate, allowing Azar to tug him along as they walked up towards the castle.  Harry looked over his shoulder, hearing the gentle shuffle of someone following them.  It was James, submissive as ever and looking positively glowing to be in such a group of elite elders.

            "Hey James, come up here," Harry called, "No need to sneak around behind us."

            His eyes and grin brightening, James rushed up to Harry's side.  Harry reached out and mussed up the boy's hair lightheartedly.  With a jolt, however, he withdrew his hand, letting go of Azar at the same time.  Azar also released Draco the same instant, her eyes wide.  Something—it could almost be called a pulsing, but not quite—had surged through all of them, like a wave of electricity, the moment Harry had touched James.  They were silent for a while, hardly daring to breathe, unsure if the others had felt the same thing.

            "Wow, that was strange," Azar laughed, "You must be a magnet for static electricity, James, 'cause that was one powerful shock."

            Harry was about to object, but the meaning in Azar's eyes as she gave him a look made him stop.  At the foot of the stairs, Azar stopped again.

            "You guys go on.  I want to talk alone with Harry a moment."

            "Oh, yeah, sure," Draco said slyly, walking up the stairs, "You want to "talk" with him."

            Draco went through the door, but James hesitated.  He was more than eager to see the right way to kiss a girl, but his bashfulness won over and he left.  Harry turned to Azar and opened his mouth to say something.

            Azar beat him to it.  "That was not static electricity."

            "I know.  So why did you say it was?"

            "I hate those awkward silences," she said, shaking her head, "Besides, I wanted to make sure before I jumped to conclusions."

            "So…what was it?"

            "How should I know?"

            He shrugged.  "I guess I just thought…"

            She rubbed her arms, shivering slightly though the night was still quite warm.  "Should we do anything about it?"

            "Well, it could have been nothing.  We might as well wait and see if anything else comes up."

            Azar nodded, frowning slightly to herself.  "Why when you touched James?  Think maybe he has…I dunno, a power or something about him that made it happen?"

            "Maybe he's just very magical.  Does he do well in school?"

            Azar smiled slightly.  "Let's just say he's Hufflepuff's answer to Neville Longbottom."

****

            "So you think Azar had something with Draco coming?" Ron laughed as he and Harry headed up toward the boys' dormitory, "Ha, figures."

            "She does have a tendency of getting her way," Harry mused, opening the door.

            "Yeah, you better be careful.  You'll have quite a time controlling her."

            "Controlling her?!  I wouldn't even try; I'd go mad.  Besides, she'd make me kiss her shoes just for suggesting such a thing."

            Ron laughed, pulling apart his bed curtains.  Then he yelled bloody murder.  Harry quickly rushed over to him to see what was the matter.  There on his bed sat a very peevish and translucent Percy Weasley.

~*~*~

A/N:  Well, here you go.  Sorry to leave off w/ just meeting up w/ Percy, but I don't feel like writing anymore right now. *grin*  I'm so lazy.

            Thank you all who have reviewed!!!

**Taracollowen:**  LOL  Oh, it's fine if you take my shoes!  The laces have broken too many times to count and I've got an annoying hole developing in the toe… ^_^  Thanks.

**Mrs. Grim:**  lol  Can't say anything about Draco's arm yet.  Sorry. ^_^  But I can tell you that Sirius won't reconsider, though he'll, er, be "kinder" about it. *shrug*  You'll see.  Thanks!

**jona:**  lol  Thanks!

**abbey:**  *hides in shame*  Yeah, I know.  My stupid word won't do revert the italics into HTML, or something!  Underline works, but not italics.  It really bugs me.  ^_^  Thanks!

**Moon Warrior:**  LOL  You'll have to tell me what happens. ^_^  Ah, revenge.  Is there anything so sweet? ^_^  Thanks!

**summersun:**  Thanks!  I know, awfully mean of Sirius.  And though he won't have a change of heart, he will try to make it more "enjoyable".  However… *shakes head*  Yeah, he's so kind it's cruel.  Ga!  I can't explain it very well, you'll just have to see.

**sweets:**  ^_^  So many questions, and none of them answerable!  Thanks, though! ^-^

**Raven of Death:**  *grins*  Thanks!  Yeah, book 4 did set me a bit off on Ron.  Of course it was inevitable.  I mean, no friendship can be completely free of fights. *shrug*

**chrestomanci:**  I know.  Ron's got problems. (And I'm not going to make it any easier for him.)  And Hermione…well, I'm putting her through kinda what I feel.  Going on my senior year of high school, I've caught the dreaded senioritis a bit early.  Not doing wonders for my grades, I can tell you that.  So Hermione's basically acting out the rebel in me. ^_^  Thanks!

**Trisana:**  Can't tell you about Draco's arm. ^_^  And Azar's been around, but not a focal point.  At least not right now. ^_^  Thanks!

**Nallen Riddle:**  Thanks!

**BlueIce:**  Thanks!  lol

**suger:**  Wow, thanks!  I will! ^_^

            Why in heaven's name am I so tired at 10:30 pm?!?!  Must be school, it's taking it out of me.  Well, I hope you semi-enjoyed this, er, less-than-perfect chapter.  I really need my summer vacation… *groan*  It's so far away!

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	11. Detention and a Looming Storm

Chapter 11:  Detention and a Looming Storm

            "Can't you warn a guy that you're sitting on his bed?!" Ron huffed, trying to calm a thumping heart, "Or do you want me to join you in the afterlife?"

            "Oh, so I'll just leave you alone from now on," Percy said, sharing in Ron's less than amiable mood.

            "No, no.  Perc, it's just…  Well, it's quite a shock to find a ghost on what you thought was an empty bed."

            "Well it's no picnic waiting all day for your younger brother to come up to his room.  I had to sit sometime, you know."

            "Yeah, okay.  But…er, it's good to see you again, Percy," Ron said, sitting next to his brother.

            "You, too," Percy smiled, "So how was the rest of your summer?  How did Mum and Dad take the news?"

            "What news?"

            "Well…about me."

            Ron went a little red.  "Um…I didn't tell them," he said quietly.

            "Didn't tell them?  What about Fred, George?  Bill?  Charlie?"

            Ron shook his head penitently.

            "Ron!  That was the whole reason I talked to you, so you could ease the news onto the family."

            "Well…it never came up."

            Percy put his head in his hand.  "Never came up?  How is it supposed to come up?  Mum's not going to ask, "So, anybody see my dead son today?""  Percy sighed.  "I guess I should have stayed home a little longer."

            Ron stared at the floor, ashamed.

            "Um…so, did coming here work?" Harry asked, changing the subject, "Do you remember what you were sent here for?"

            "Most of it, yes," Percy answered, "The other ghosts have been quite helpful for the most part."

            "…So…what were you sent here for?" Ron ventured cautiously.

            "Can't tell you."

            "What?!" Ron exclaimed, "You can't tell us?!  Oh, c'mon Percy, that's no fair!  You can't just leave us hanging like that."

            "I'm sorry, Ron, but it's not something that I'm just supposed to blab to everybody," Percy said, irritated at Ron's reaction, "There are some matters that simply do not concern you.  Besides, the details are still a little unclear even to me."

            "Great, just great," Ron muttered, "First it's 'you're not old enough', now it's 'you're not dead enough.'"

            "Oh, come off it, Ron."

            "How has your stopover at Hogwarts been, Percy?" Harry asked, again trying to steer the conversation away from controversy.

            "Quite fun, actually.  I've learned loads about this place, and Sir Nicholas has been a great help.  Being invisible is quite a different experience, though.  I've overheard many interesting conversations between that Malfoy boy and a Ravenclaw girl."

            "Wait, wait, wait, do you mean Azar?" Harry asked eagerly.

            "Why, yes," Percy answered, surprised, "You know her?"

            "Know her?" Ron laughed, "She and Harry spend half of their time together playing dentist without their hands, if you kno—"

            "Ron!" Harry's voice went very high-pitched and his face very red.  "Er…uh, what'd they talk about, Percy?"

            "Various things.  Azar first tried to talk about his mother, but Malfoy stayed clear of that.  Then they talked about friendship, and something called "revero detinu".  All in very general terms of "they" and "we", though.  Were they talking about you?"

            "Most likely," Harry said, "Did Azar ever bring up a party?"

            "Yes, she did," Percy answered, again surprised by Harry's accuracy, "Apparently Malfoy was very against it.  Azar thought it was because he was angry with someone, but she eventually wheedled the real reason out of him.  Well, vaguely.  He said something about that there are some feelings you just can't trust.  That he longed for friendship, but there's something that might break it.  That, of course, was one of the later talks.  He never would have been that open at first."

            "Hey, wait a minute.  How'd you hear so many of their conversations?"

            "I just chanced upon the first one.  It was the night all of you finally arrived.  I was walking down the hall, invisible since I prefer not being noticed, and saw Malfoy coming from the opposite direction, rushing into the boys' toilet.  Well, before I'd gotten much further, Azar came down the hall and ran right in after him.  Naturally I suspected something shady, so I followed her.  Apparently Malfoy was as surprised as I to see her there.

            "They had something of a row then, but it was a strange one.  Azar never once raised her voice, but Malfoy ranted something awful, half the time saying, "This is a boys' toilet, get out."  He eventually argued himself into submission and Azar convinced him to meet her outside the Ravenclaw common room the next night, and to bring "that cloak" of his.  Naturally I wasn't going to let those two go off out-of-bounds late at night, so I followed them the next night, all the way up to the North Tower."

            "The…the North Tower?" Harry asked, looking taken aback, "They went up to the North Tower?  Are you sure?"

            "Of course I'm sure.  I know Hogwarts as well as I ever did," Percy said, a little indignantly, "They met almost every night, sneaking along in his invisibility cloak, and they would always go up on the roof and talk."

            Harry didn't answer, his shoulders slumping.  To him it felt as though a Dementor had just entered the room.

            "Well, now that that's settled, I need to talk with you Ron."

            "Er…sure.  But the common room probably isn't empty yet."

            "We can just talk here," Percy said, though he glanced at Harry with a little concern.

            "Oh, I'm going to bed anyways," Harry said, trying to sound normal, " 'night, Ron.  You too, Percy."

            He pulled his hangings closed, lying back on his bed.  And even though the quiet murmurings from Ron's bed were just audible enough for Harry to listen, he didn't.  His mind was elsewhere as he frowned at the top of his bed.

****

            Severus Snape sat alone in his dark office, working by one lone flaxen candle.  His left forearm was stinging painfully, but he ignored it.  What he wouldn't give to be rid of that reminder of his biggest mistake.  Far from getting his wish, however, he was about to be reminded all the more painfully.

            The door of his office opened slowly, and he glanced up casually.  He froze, then looked more carefully at the figure.

            "Juni?" he asked quietly.

            "Severus," his little sister answered curtly.

            The Potions master let surprise linger in his eyes for only a moment, then hardened them into the same look that came from his sibling.

            "I'm sorry to interrupt your undoubtedly important work," she said sardonically, "but I need to speak with Headmaster Dumbledore and do not know the password."

            "What are you doing here, Juni?" he asked, standing up.

            "Something worthwhile," she said stiffly, "I've seen firsthand the destruction of your beloved master and have come here to help stop it."

            Snape glared at her.  "He's not my master."

            "He was once, and always will be.  You sold your soul to that beast, Severus, and no matter how you try to ignore it, try to deny it, he will always have an influence on everything you do.  Your supposed volte-face can never change that," she said darkly.

            Snape stood in silence a moment; in a silence all his students knew meant they had gone one step too far.  "I would think my own sister would forgive me.  Everyone else has."

            "Have they really, Severus?"

            "Yes," he answered sternly, though not assuredly.

            "I have more reason than anyone to never forgive you, brother.  You brought shame to the family.  And you joined with those who would gladly destroy a person like me."

            "If anything, I joined to protect you, Juni!" he answered angrily, "If I was one of them, then I could stop them from killing those I loved."

            "Oh, so you wanted to protect me.  Like you protected Ethie."

            Snape stiffened, drawing in a deep breath.  "I'll take you to the Headmaster," he said coldly.

            He swept past her, swiftly leading the way.  They walked in silence, Snape blinking furiously to keep his vision from blurring.  He couldn't let her see the hurt she'd caused.

****

            "He can't be serious!" Hermione said, gaping at the paper she'd just received.

            "It that bad?" Ron asked.

            "That's not a detention, it's… ugh!"

            "What?"

            "Cleaning the banks of the lake!  That shoreline must be at least two miles long."

            "Ah, it's not that bad.  At least you don't have to clean trophies while belching slugs."

            This didn't cheer Hermione any.

            "Hey, Herm, is that your detention?" Azar asked as she and Harry came up behind the two at the Gryffindor table.

            "Yes," she answered sulkily, "I have to clean up the lake."

            "Hey, me too!" Azar exclaimed, surprised, "That should make it easier, eh, Herm?"

            "I knew Sirius would do it," Harry smiled.

            "Do what?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

            "Well, I talked to Sirius about your detention.  He seemed a little regretful about giving it to you, but he was determined to make you have one.  So I suggested he give you the same job as Azar."

            Hermione's eyes bugged out slightly.  "Harry!  He probably would have let me off if you hadn't done that!"

            Harry looked surprised, cowering slightly.

            "Ah, c'mon, Herm.  You and me, what could be better?  The time should really fly!  And we'll be helping the environment; what a plus!"

            Hermione looked helplessly at Azar, then buried her face in her hands.  "What a way to spend a Sunday afternoon," she muttered.

            "See, this isn't that bad," Azar said, tossing a deflated bicycle tire into her bag.

            "Speak for yourself," Hermione muttered, coming upon what looked like a used diaper, "I can't believe all the gunk that's here!  You'd think muggles would have a little more respect for such a beautiful lake."

            "It's not just muggles," Azar sighed, picking up an empty box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

            They had been cleaning the whole afternoon, having worked their way near the side of the lake closest to the Forbidden Forest.  The sun was hot against their backs, and it didn't help any that the rubber gloves they wore seemed to insulate the heat, causing their hands to stick uncomfortably to the gloves' insides.  They had already filled four sacks with the trash from the lake, which it seemed some confused for a dump, and it was clear they would double the amount before they were done.  Filch had also warned them that if they did a half-assed job of it, he would make them clean the trash at the lake bottom, too.  How, they didn't know, but they'd rather not find out.

            "You know, this just makes you want to slap every single person at the school," Hermione said bitterly.

            "Little good that would do, Herm.  You'll find people will continue bad habits even if…"

            She faded off, stopping.  Hermione stood up straight, gazing at Azar.  She was staring into the forest.

            "Did you see that?" Azar asked, glancing back at her incredulously.

            "What?"

            "That light.  It was beautiful!  Like…like a fairy or…I don't know.  Are there fairies in the forest?"

            Hermione shrugged.  "I wouldn't know.  I've only been in there once, and believe me, there were no fairies."

            "Well, let's find out then!" Azar said, bursting into a wide grin and running into the forest.

            "Wait a second!  We can't just…" Hermione faded off, realizing it was little use.  With a huff and a very annoyed look, she tossed down her bag and peeled off her gloves, racing after Azar.

            The sun seemed to fade away as she emerged under the great canopy.  It was a far cry from as dark as night, but the shadows were just thick enough to cause goose pimples to rise on Hermione's arms.  She looked around, finding no Azar in sight among the thick tree trunks and dusty light.  She did, however, find a path close by and soon was walking along it, tripping on the occasional root and calling for Azar all the time.

            "Where have you gone to?  Azar!  Aza—"

            "Boo!" Azar yelled, jumping out from behind a tree and causing Hermione to jump.

            "Don't do that!" Hermione scolded.

            "Aw, no scream," Azar said with feigned complaint.

            "I hardly think that after all I've experienced at Hogwarts that I'd be that frightened by a simple 'boo'," Hermione said disdainfully, "Now come on.  We've got to get back to the lake before Filch or Snape notices we're gone."

            "Are you kidding?  There's something in here, Herm, and I intend to find out what it is."

            Hermione sighed.  "Well, at least stay on the path then.  A sure fire way to get yourself lost in a forest is to go off running into the brush.  And believe me, you don't want to get lost in this forest."

            Azar shrugged.  "Okay, fine.  But I seriously doubt that we'll find anything by just sticking to the path.  It would be smarter than that."

            "If it's smart enough to stay off the path, then it's smart enough to stay away from you.  Pity I don't seem to have that much common sense."

            "Oh ha, ha, Herm, b—There it is!" Azar cried, and without so much as another word, she tore off away from Hermione.

            "Azar!  Azar, get back here!" Hermione yelled, "We're supposed to stay on the path!"

            "I want to see what's over here!" Azar called back.

            "Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

            "Good thing I'm not a cat!"

            Rolling her eyes, Hermione hurried after Azar.  Though she knew leaving the path wasn't the smartest of choices, she was none too eager to be left alone in the forest.  Try as she might, however, to follow Azar in her mad dash, Hermione couldn't keep up.  After tripping over a tree root for the third time, she not only couldn't see Azar but couldn't hear her either.  She stopped for only a moment, though, marching on in determination that she would throttle Azar when she next caught sight of her.

            The forest seemed darker now; the trees overhead were thicker, wisps of moss hanging from their branches.  Hermione folded her arms tightly for warmth.  It definitely wasn't summer anymore.  She marched irritably through the brush, her frown deepening with each step.  Though she wasn't sure if it was simply her imagination, it seemed a mist was beginning to curl around the ground, gradually becoming a white blanket over the dirt.

            "Azar!" Hermione yelled, "It's getting late and cold!  If you don't get over here right—"

            Squelch.

            Hermione looked down.  Her foot had just sunk into a patch of mud.  Muttering under her breath, she pulled it out with another squelch.  She was all set to abandon Azar and head back out into daylight when she caught something out of the corner of her eye.  Bending down and pushing aside a little bit of weed, she found Azar's footprint.  Now that wouldn't normally have been enough to cause Hermione to stop, but that footprint led to more.  And the further the footprints went, the deeper the mud got, until each print was nothing but a puddle.

            She looked up sharply.  The thickening mist, the moss covered trees, the deepening water…  This was a bog.  Her mind was racing.  Azar had seen a light, had been drawn to it…and they were in a bog.  Hermione's eyes widened.

            "Hinkypunk," she whispered.

            With a jolt, she leapt to her feet and raced after Azar, following the footprints.  The water became deeper to her right, and weeds and cattails grew so thick it was hard to discern water from land.  Azar's steps soon disappeared into the pond, but Hermione stayed on the bank, hoping the hinkypunk kept going the same direction.  She fought through the trees and weeds, stopping once to pull on a shoe the mud had loosened.  Through a mess of hanging moss, she glimpsed a light.  Her heart gave an unwelcoming jump, but she quickly headed towards it.  Coming free of a spider's web and stepping from the barrier of trees, she landed right in a foot of water.  She stared disgustedly at her submerged feet for a moment, then looked up.  The fact that the hem of her robes was now soaking suddenly seemed very trivial.

            There stood Azar, waist deep in the marsh, the wispy hinkypunk dancing about, three meters in front of her.

            "Azar!" Hermione yelled, "Azar, get out of there!"

            Azar jumped slightly, as if being jolted awake, and then turned to Hermione.  "Oh, Herm, I…"  She stopped, suddenly realizing where she was.  "What in the world?!"

            "Azar, that's a hinkypunk!  You have to get out of there!"

            Azar's eyes widened and she turned back to face the creature.  "A…a hinkypunk?"  With a jolt of panic, she tried to step back, and nearly fell over.  Catching her balance, she looked back at Hermione.

            "My feet are stuck in the mud!  Herm, get me outta here!"

            "Okay, okay, just a minute."

            Hermione turned back to the forest, trying to find a vine or branch or something that she could use to pull Azar out.  However, no such object was conveniently lying around.

            "Herm!" Azar's voice came, "Herm…"

            Hermione quickly got back to the bank, and froze.  The hinkypunk had given up on luring Azar further and was now making its way toward her.

            "Your wand, Azar!" Hermione yelled, "Get it out; blast it!"

            But Azar didn't move.  She was absolutely petrified with fear.  Thinking quickly, Hermione plunged a hand into her robes, withdrawing her wand and pointing it straight at the advancing hinkypunk.

            "Relashio!" she yelled, sending a searing jet of red light at the creature.

            With a shocked yelp, the hinkypunk skittered away.  Azar stood there stunned a moment, then turned sharply to run out of the quagmire.  Crying out in pain, she disappeared under the water with a splash.  A few seconds later, she came up spluttering.  Hermione rushed out into the water, helping Azar out until they both collapsed on the bank.  Hermione took deep breaths, half out of exhaustion and half out of excitement.  Azar, however, stared blankly at the bog in shock.

            "You okay?" Hermione finally asked, "Azar?  Azar?"

            "I Saw it…" she whispered, "I knew it was going to happen…but that didn't change it…"

            "What are you talking about, Azar?"

            "The light, the bog, even the word 'hinkypunk'…they were all there," Azar rambled on, "But I froze.  It didn't change a thing…"

            "Azar, are you all right?" Hermione asked with concern, putting her hand on the girl's shoulder.

            Azar shook herself, then smiled up at Hermione.  "Yeah, sorry, I'm okay.  Just a twisted ankle, a shoeless foot, and a shattered ego.  I can't believe I froze out there.  That was quick thinking, Hermione."

            "Thanks.  But I…  Her…Hermione?" You would have thought Hermione had never said her own name before.

            "Huh?"

            "You didn't call me 'Herm', but 'Hermione'…"

            Azar shrugged, smiling.  "Well, I figure if you took the trouble to save my life, I could take the trouble to say your name right."

            Hermione gaped a moment, unable to say anything.  Then a smile broke on her face and she flung her arms around Azar.  This absolutely shocked the poor girl, her arms out and eyes wide.

            "Thank you!" Hermione laughed, still holding on tight, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

            "Er…think you could let go now, Hermione?  Besides, if anyone should be saying 'thanks' it's me," Azar said, getting out of Hermione's grasp and standing up, "We'd better get back."

            Azar took a step, and nearly collapsed in pain.  Hermione quickly stood and held her up.

            "Thanks," Azar smiled grimly, "I guess I twisted it worse then I thought."

            "Sit and let me have a look at it.  Oh wait, we'd better just leave that shoe on.  It should hold it in case of a break.  Here, lean on me," Hermione said, putting an arm around Azar's shoulder, "Just use me as support as you walk, and try not to use that foot too much."

            They walked in silence for a while, Azar wincing each time her good but shoeless foot came upon a rock or root.

            "How come you didn't recognize it as a hinkypunk from the start?" Hermione asked, trying to break the silence.

            "Never seen one before.  That was one of the creatures Remus taught you guys about, right?  Well, I only learned them by book.  It's a lot different in—" Azar took in a sharp breath, having stepped on a particularly sharp rock.

            "Oh, your poor foot!" Hermione cried, realizing why Azar had stopped, "Here, use my shoe."

            "But then you'll suffer."

            "No, I'll be fine.  Besides, you have to put all your weight on that one.  Here."

            Hermione took her shoe off and slipped it over Azar's sopping sock.

            "Thanks again," Azar said sheepishly as they continued on.

            They were silent for the rest of the walk, finally coming out onto Hogwarts' grounds to find a setting sun.  They'd just started toward the castle when they spotted Filch skulking toward them.  He marched up, but stopped when he saw them more clearly in the fading light.

            "Miss Zundel!" Filch said, unable to contain his surprise, "What happened?  Did you fall in the lake?"

            Azar thought a moment, then nodded.  "Sure.  Sounds like a likely story to me."

            With that, she and Hermione continued toward the castle, smiling.

~*~*~

A/N:  *smiles*  I think I'm fairly pleased with this chapter.  It's semi-long, purposeful, and I just like it.  ^_^  Hm…hopefully I can get the next chapter written before Spring Break is over.  I want to get as many as I can written now, 'cause AP test time is quickly approaching, and I'll have no time to write then. *sigh*

            Thank you everyone who reviewed!

**Naralina:**  lol  Nope, you're not hallucinating.  Happened to Ronniekins in WoC.  I'm glad you caught onto it. ^-^  Bwa-ha-ha!  You think I'd tell you whether or not James is evil?  Snape and McGonagall are more likely to elope than for me to tell ya. ^_^  Thanks!

**Taracollowen:**  *grins*  I will neither deny nor affirm that James is evil. ^-^  Thanks!

**summersun:**  *grins*  Thanks!

**SilverFireFairy:**  Thanks.  No.  I don't write or read slash fics in general.  It's not that I'm homophobic or any such nonsense, it's just I like to keep in characterization and, in my mind at least, that's in neither of their characters.

***Jay*:**  Wow, thank you!  Azar didn't do anything to Draco, simply convinced him to come. ^-^

**Laurs:**  Thanks!  More about James later, though. ^_^

**Raven of Death:**  If you hate Ron now… *grins maliciously*  Yeah, I'm not saying any more on the subject.  Oh, lucky!  I wish my exams were over.  The math one is on my birthday, to top it all off. *sigh*  Thanks. ^_^

**Moon Warrior:**  lol  MW, you are too funny.  Thanks.

**chrestomanci:**  lol  Ah, well, Filch is a squib, but he can see Hogwarts.  I don't know exactly why, but I figure if he can, Juni can.  Thanks!

**sweets:**  Thanks. ^-^ lol  But I can't help it!  Summer just seems so close!

**Kelly:**  "Evil, not lazy, evil!" ^_^  I'll keep that in mind.  LOL  I love your review, Kelly!  And if you need help, email me!  My door is always open, and I love beta-reading!  Thanks!

**BlueIce:**  LOL  Thanks!

**Mrs. Grim:**  Thanks!  *grins* *in mystical Trelawney voice*  I know all and see all…

**suger:**  Thanks!  Sure, I'd be glad to!  Just email me at adyremard@yahoo.com  I love reading people's stuff before they post it. ^_^

**Trisana:**  ^_^  Thanks!

**yerbroham:**  Hope you don't mind my not answering in an email, but I figured since I was sticking this up today, I'd just answer here.  Wow, really?!  I've honestly been trying and I'm glad to see I've had some success. ^-^  Colin was a bit more annoying than James is.  He hasn't asked for Harry's autograph yet, at least. ^_^  Yeah, revero detinu…  Well, I'd hoped that the distance issue would suffice there.  Though I know that doesn't really do for after they arrive at Hogwarts… *sigh*  Yeah, I'm too selective with that.  But it will play a much bigger part later on.  And I will look into explaining it all. (I'll have to wrack my brain, but I'll do it. ^-^)  Thanks!!!

            Well, I hope no one minds too much, but there'll be more of that going-into-conversations-and-happenings-that-Harry-isn't-involved-in stuff. ^_^

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	12. The Work of Janus?

Chapter 12:  The Work of Janus?

            "Sheesh, Madam Pomfrey fussed over me even more than you, Harry.  I thought I'd never get out of there.  Imagine making me stay the night for a little twisted ankle!"

            "Serves you right for going off like that," Hermione scolded.

            "Thank you, Mother," Azar said, not a trace of resent in her words.

            "Hi, Ron," came a low, dulcet voice from behind him.

            Gulping down a bite of food, Ron turned around.  "Oh, hey Lavender."

            "Going to Potions today?" she asked sweetly, a smile to match.

            "Uh…yeah."

            "Well, see you there, then."

            She walked off, her hindquarters swaying a little more than was natural.  Ron glanced at Harry, raising his eyebrow.  Harry shrugged.

            "You had Prep this morning, right, Azar?" Ron asked worriedly, disregarding Lavender, "How'd it go?  I haven't done the assignment."  Somehow, however, his worry wasn't enough to stop him from digging into his lunch.

            Azar laughed.  "What pleasant news for you then, Ron.  We got to class and he asked if anyone had done the assignment.  Very few raised their hands.  So he gave those people points, and the rest of the class was allowed to look up whichever job they wanted to present.  Those poor people who'd done it weren't very happy, but I didn't mind, since I hadn't done it.  I knew he wouldn't make us turn it in."

            Harry caught her eye, raising his brows.  She gave a silent laugh.

            "Well, I'm headed to Divination early today," Azar said, standing up, "She's focusing on Seers today, a topic in which I have much interest."

            She caught Harry's eye again, and they both had to suppress a laugh.

            "See you guys in the library after dinner."

            "Wait, I'll come with you, Azar," Draco said quickly, standing, "My class is on the way."

            Harry frowned slightly as he watched them leave.  "Isn't McGonagall's classroom on the opposite side of the castle from Trelawney's?"

            "Yeah, and there's a good reason for that," Ron laughed, "Why do you ask?"

            "I could have sworn Draco had Transfiguration next," Harry said, still staring at the Great Hall doors, "but I guess I was wrong…"

****

            Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco sat in the library later that day, finishing the rather severe homework they'd received in Potions.  Snape had seemed in a particularly bad mood today, not even giving the Slytherins a break.  No one had any idea why.  Azar walked in as Harry was in the middle of looking up the effects of the Paten Potion on a four-toed guishrake.

            "She gracefully flowed through the doorway, each step making only the softest of patters.  Pausing a moment, she peered quizzically around the room, then her gaze fell upon the table where her friends sat.  Her black robes swaying with every step, she walked over to them and sat carelessly in the chair across from her boyfriend."

            Harry raised an eyebrow, smiling.  "What are you doing, Azar?"

            She smiled.  "…he questioned, trying, highly unsuccessfully, to hold back a smile.  'Narrating my own life story,' she said, a humorous grin playing on her lips, 'It's quite interesting.  Everything suddenly becomes so new and exciting.'  With that she gazed at them all to gauge the effect of her words.  Harry shook his head the way he always did when she said something absurd yet interesting."

            Having just done exactly what she was narrating, Harry laughed, asking, "But why in third person?"

            " 'I can't very well narrate in first person,' she explained matter-of-factly, 'That makes everything stay as it is.  Third person gives you a whole new view on your life.  Makes you feel like an actor.'"

            Draco rolled his eyes.  "This could get old very quick."

            "…he said, giving her that classic Draco Malfoy look of annoyance.  'You should try it.'--"

            "she said, her face alighting with that stupid childish glee it always did when she was doing something extremely stupid and trying to get others to go along with it," Draco said, a note of triumph in his voice.

            A smile curled onto Azar's face.  " 'Ooh, just wait until I find him alone in a dark alley,' she thought vengefully, various images of the blond boy's demise going through her head."

            Draco gave a short laugh, but his eyes held some unease, for he had not yet reached the point where he could tell whether or not Azar was joking.  "I'm headed out.  I don't think I can take this without seriously thinking of hitting her upside the head."

            "he said, a little fearfully.  With that he stood, tripping slightly on the chair, and walked stiffly for the door, his eyes darting around nervously."

            Draco stopped at the door, glanced back at her as if she was completely mad (which may very well have been true), then headed out.

            "I notice you're prone to exaggeration," Hermione said.

            " 'Ah, Herm, what's the fun of narrating your own life story unless you're allowed some creative license?'  She glanced back at the closed door.  'I think I shall go after him,' she said, her face brightening with glee, 'Nothing's more fun than annoying that boy.'  So she stood up and headed quickly for the door, intent on following Draco straight into the Slytherin common room if need be.  She quickly kissed Harry good-bye, though, and his loving eyes followed her until she was out of sight."

            The door shut.

            Not even Ron could fail to recognize the look of dejected worry that came upon Harry's face as he continued to stare at the library door.  He glanced questionably at Hermione, who gave him a meaningful look as she nodded her head towards Harry.  A little awkwardly, Ron cleared his throat.

            "Uh, Harry?  You okay?"

            "Yeah," he sighed, "Just worried."

            Ron glanced back at Hermione, who made it clear that he was supposed to ask why.

            "Uh…about what?" Ron asked tentatively.

            That was all the prompting Harry needed.  He let the whole story out, about Azar and Draco's secret meetings up in the North Tower, about how they seemed to be spending a lot more time together, about how he occasionally got the urge to hit Draco so hard he'd have to be fed through a tube.  It all fell out so fast, Ron and Hermione had to think a while before they'd sorted it all out in their minds.

            "So what do you think?" Harry asked, a little breathless, "Am I just being paranoid?  Or could Azar and Draco be something…more?"

            "Of course not, Harry," Hermione said with a knowing smile, "I mean, sure Draco is handsome and intelligent.  Sure he's got perfect blond hair and mysterious gray eyes.  Sure he has that careless aura about him that makes you feel attracted, even though you know you shouldn't be because you already have a boyfr—"

            "A-hem," Ron interrupted loudly.  It was clear by the resentful look on his face that he didn't do so because she might be worrying Harry.

            Hermione blushed slightly.  "Well, my point is Harry, Azar doesn't care about all that.  She cares about you.  There's no one else she'd even think about."

            Harry brightened slightly.  "Really?"

            "Really," she smiled.

            He felt immensely relieved.  They went back to their work, Harry finishing off his paper just before Hermione spoke up again.

            "You really love her, don't you?"

            Color rose to Harry's face, but along with it came a smile.  "Yes.  More…more than anything."

            "Come on, tell us what you feel about her, Harry," Hermione pleaded, smiling dreamily.

            "I-I don't know," Harry said, blushing a deeper crimson, "She's so…beautiful…an--"

            "Hey, looks aren't supposed to be important, Harry," Ron interrupted jokingly.

            "No, I don't mean it like that.  It…it's a deeper beauty.  Besides, I seem to remember a certain someone who wouldn't ask a girl to the dance because her nose was off center," Harry said, smiling.

            "Hey, I proved looks didn't matter to me when I started dating Hermione."

            The smile on Hermione's face froze.  Ron clapped a hand over his mouth in horror, turning pale as he realized what he had just said.

            "Oh my gosh.  Hermione, I didn't mean it in that way.  I-I-"

            "Excuse me, will you, Harry?" she said stiffly, walking to the door.

            Ron was soon out of his chair, rushing after her.  "Oh, Hermione!  Please.  I was just saying that you're no Fleur Delacour…"

            Hermione turned around, giving the boy her most hateful glare, and then swept out of the room, an extremely apologetic Ron racing after her.  Harry quickly put his things away, then went into the castle corridors.  He didn't worry about Ron and Hermione; they'd work it out.  They always did.

            The halls were empty.  Everyone knew bad weather was looming, and so spent as much time outside as possible before the time of treks through mud and snow began.  Those diligent few who weren't outside were hunched over their homework in common rooms and the library.  The halls were peaceful.  This was how Harry liked it.  The corridors seemed a very different place when they weren't full of chatting, laughing, and shoving students.  It was like the difference between drowning and breathing underwater.  Every step echoed, and a far away conversation drifted through the air, more like a memory than reality.  Let the others have their sun and homework; Harry had the halls.

            It wasn't long (at least not to Harry), however, before a very harassed-looking Ron came towards him.  Ron was so distracted, he probably wouldn't have even seen Harry had he not called out.

            "Oh, hey Harry," he said, a thoughtful frown on his face.

            "Hermione not forgive you yet?"

            "No.  She wouldn't even let me talk to her.  Just told me to go away before she had the chance to say some not-so-nice things," Ron said glumly, "And for some dumb reason, Lavender Brown has made it her goal in life to cheer me up.  If you see her, tell her I'm in the library or something.  I'm going to Gryffindor tower."

            Giving something that might be called a wave—though it was truly too halfhearted to tell—Ron left Harry.  Sure enough, Lavender appeared not long after, her face brightening at the sight of Harry.  Informing her that Ron was in the library, she hastily set off without so much as a thanks.

            Harry couldn't quite figure Lavender out.  She'd hardly so much as glanced at Ron last year, but now seemed determined to see as much of him as possible.  Maybe it had something to do with her personal life, but Harry would rather not know.  He had enough trouble figuring out his friends, much less try to fathom his peers.

            The halls having so suddenly lost their appeal, Harry headed outside.  When he exited the Great Hall doors, to his surprise, he saw Azar and Draco talking animatedly a ways off.  He couldn't hear what they were saying, but apparently it was very exciting, for Draco was holding Azar's upper arms as if trying to contain his joy.  As he spoke, Azar's eyes widened with delight and she grabbed hold of his arms in the same way.  She said something, and apparently liked his answer for she jumped with enthusiasm.  Even Draco joined in, something Harry was sure he wouldn't do if he knew someone else was watching.  Harry smiled slightly, but his stomach gave an unwelcome turn.

            That was nothing to what his stomach did when Azar flung her arms around Draco's neck, laughing.  He embraced her around the waist and even spun her around, both of them acting as if it was the funniest thing in the world.  They stopped, letting go of each other.  Draco was saying something, but his back was to Harry.  The look on Azar's face, however, softened into humble pleasure and she spent a lot of the time looking at her feet.  When he stopped talking, she looked up, and he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.  Then he hurried off, in the opposite direction of Harry, and Azar turned and watched him go.

            Harry's insides felt as though they were boiling.  He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to calm himself but failing miserably.  He ground his teeth, and if he'd opened his mouth right then, a growl was sure to have escaped.  His rage not withdrawing an ounce, he marched over to Azar.  As he approached, she heard him and turned around.

            "Oh, hey Harry."

            "So, had fun with Draco, did we?" Harry said stiffly.

            Azar looked at him bewildered, but set on guard by the tone of his voice.  "Yes, I did.  Is there anything wrong with having fun with a friend?"

            "No.  But there's such a thing as crossing the line between having fun with a friend and doing something more."

            Azar's eyes narrowed.  "And what might you be suggesting, Mr. Potter?"

            "Simply, Miss Zundel," he said brusquely, "that you and Malfoy have crossed that line."

            "Harry James Potter, you're just asking for a whomping," Azar answered angrily, "Draco and I are just friends, nothing more."

            "Yeah, well I never saw you act like that with Ron."

            "Ron's your best friend, not mine."

            "So you're saying Draco's your best friend now?"

            "…Other than you, yes, he very well may be."

            Harry bristled.  "Well… Why can't you be best friends with Hermione, huh?  For once can't you be like other girls?  Girls are supposed to be best friends with girls."

            "And what is wrong with my being friends with those of the male species, huh?  Hermione and I are good friends, but I doubt we could ever be best friends.  Draco and I listen and talk to each other; that's a friendship."  Azar crossed her arms, her eyes flashing Harry a dare to say something.  He ignored it.

            "He'll influence you, Azar!"  His face was a little red now, and he seemed to be speaking between clenched teeth.  "In fact, he's probably already started!  He's probably already planning it out, how he'll win you, seduce you, then drop you."

            "How dare you say such a thing!" Azar said shrilly, "First of all, I wouldn't be so stupid as to be "seduced" like that.  Second of all, Draco would never do that.  He doesn't even like me like that!"

            "How do you know?"

            "I just know, okay?"  For the first time in the conversation, Azar looked away from Harry.

            "Yeah, he probably just told you that," he said, too busy ranting to notice Azar's averted gaze, "Has to look like a good guy if he's going to win you over."

            "Can you come off it?  He's not trying to "win" me."

            "How can you be so blind!  It started when you guys started meeting at the North Tower, and he's just progressing to step two!"

            "How did you know about us meeting in the North Tower?" Azar asked, surprised and more than a little suspicious.

            "I-I-I…I have connections," Harry said firmly, trying to convince her and himself that there was nothing at all wrong in that.

            "I cannot believe my ears!  You've been having people spy on me!  I thought this was bad enough, but I never imagined you'd go so low!"

            "I haven't had people spying on you, but now I realize maybe I should.  Or at least spying on Malfoy."

            "Harry, you're going to feel like such an idiot when you find out the truth!"

            "Well you're acting especially idiotic if you believe what he tells you!"

            "That's it!  I'm leaving!"

            "Fine; go!  Go off with your "friend"!  I'm sure he'll gladly console you, and before you know it you'll find yourself in bed," he spat.

            Azar's eyes flashed dangerously.  "Just shut up, okay?  Shut up before you make anymore a fool of yourself."

            "It's you who's the fool, Azar.  He's after you, Azar!"

            "For your information, Mister Potter, Draco likes Hermione, not me!"

            The moment the phrase left Azar's lips, she was horrified, clapping a hand over her mouth.  Harry blinked slowly, the words playing over in his mind, but still he couldn't comprehend them.  Surely he'd heard wrong.

            "He…he likes Hermione?" he asked tentatively.

            "Harry, you have to swear on your life you won't tell anyone," Azar said emphatically, "I shouldn't have said that, I didn't even mean to.  Please promise you won't tell."

            "Since when does Draco like Hermione?" he said, his mind still unable to make it past that revelation.

            "Since last year," she answered quietly, "That's why he was so angry with her for not owling him.  It might hurt when your friends don't recognize your pain, but when someone you love does that…  He thought it meant she didn't care at all about him, so he was mad at her."

            "But, Draco's always hated Hermione."

            "Yeah, well now he doesn't," Azar said, exasperated, "Now are you going to promise not to tell, or do I have to wipe away your memory?"

            "No, no, I promise," he said quickly.

            "I was joking, Harry," she said with a smile, "I'd never do that to you."

            They were silent, then Harry spoke up uncertainly.  "Are you sure he didn't say he liked…Herbology, not Hermione?"

            "Oh, so now along with not trusting my judgment or fidelity, you don't trust my sense of hearing either?"

            There was something about her voice that made Harry feel as though she was his mum trying to tell him his dog died while he was at school.

            "I trust you, Azar," he said earnestly, "Of course I trust you."

            "Actions speak louder than words, Harry.  I would have never thought a conversation like tonight even possible, but…well, there it is."

            This is the part of the conversation where he would have asked his mum, "Where's Fido?", the panic of realization just setting in.

            "Azar, I'm sorry.  There aren't words to describe the shame I feel.  I was just…scared.  Scared that I might lose you.  It won't happen again."

            As she spoke, Azar's eyes lacked that joking spark he'd always counted on.  "You can't guarantee that.  You could get scared again, and this could happen again.  A relationship can't survive like that."

            ("Honey, Fido's not coming home.")

            "Please, Azar, forgive me.  It was a mistake."

            ("Why not?  Where is he, Mum?")

            Azar shook her head, trying to fight the tears.  "I'm going to bed early," she said slowly, watching Hermione's distant figure hastily going into the castle, "I have a lot to think about."

            She walked slowly to the castle, not looking back.  Harry watched her go, feeling as though his stomach was made of lead.

            ("I'm sorry, honey, but he passed away this morning.")

****

            Hermione sat on a bench outside, having shooed Ron away from her.  She knew he hadn't meant it, but the comment had made a stinging blow.  She had never thought of herself as pretty, and for such a remark to come from her boyfriend, of all people…  Her anger seemed to be coming to a boil.

            'All those 'Fleur Delacour's of the world,' she thought, 'having boys ready to do their every whim.  They never had to wonder if they're pretty.'

            A chill breeze swept over the grounds, ushering in the appearance of a few dark clouds.  Hermione rubbed her arms slightly, trying to get rid of the sudden goose bumps.  Just then a figure came toward her, the last person in the world she felt like talking to right then.

            "Go away, Draco," she said, blinking away some tears.

            "Have I ever let you order me around?"

            Hermione looked at him, a little surprised.  If he's addressed that to "mudblood", she would have felt fine.  But the way he said it…

            "So, what has reduced the smartest girl in school to tears?" he asked, sitting next to her.

            "Ron," she answered before even thinking about it.  The way he had asked had been so comforting that she didn't even wonder if she should answer.

            "What did he do?  I swear, that boy is so insensitive…" Draco muttered, some of his familiar malice returning.

            "No, it's not really him.  It's just…I'm not very pretty, am I?"

            "What put that in your mind?"

            "Just something Ron said…"

            "Now look here, Hermione.  You could beat the pants off of any girl in the school in a beauty contest.  You've got the talent, the looks, the brains, and the determination."

            She smiled up at him, and he returned the look.

            "And," he added, a little hesitantly, scooting towards her ever so slightly, "anyone who makes you feel any different…doesn't deserve you…"

            Hermione raised her eyebrows.  Was he suggesting what she thought he was suggesting?  Slowly, Draco slid off the bench, kneeling before her and cradling her hand gently.

            "Hermione, I-"

            "Draco Malfoy, get up right this instant!" Hermione said forcefully, standing up with her hands on her hips, "I do not want to see a man in that position in front of me until I've over twenty and he has a ring in his hand!"

            Draco stood up, blushing.  "I-I wasn't meaning it in that way.  Hermione, I…I think I…  Well, I have feelings for you."

            Hermione raised an eyebrow.  "Feelings for me?" she repeated.

            He looked at her meaningfully, hoping she'd understand what he couldn't put into words.  There was something in his eyes, a softness that suddenly hit Hermione.  No, he had to be joking.

            She let out a laugh.  "Oh, come off it, Draco."

            "N-no.  I really mean it."

            Hermione peered over at him with a look of bewilderment.  His expression was so true, she couldn't help but believe him.  Yet the very thought seemed absurd.

            "You, Mr. High-and-Mighty-Pureblood, like me, Miss Useless-Little-Mudblood?"

            "Is it that unbelievable?"

            "He-llo!" she said, still a ring of laughter in her words, "This is like my bratty little brother saying he "has feelings" for me!  Of course it's unbelievable!"

            "Your bratty little brother?" Draco said with a bit of a painful smile, "Well, I've got to go find my heart, 'cause you just pulled it from my chest and drop-kicked it into the Forbidden Forest."

            Hermione bit her lip, feeling a bit guilty as the boy turned to walk away.  "Wait, Draco," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry; that was rude.  You just surprised me, that's all."

            "So, there is hope for us?"  His voice was quiet, as though hardly daring to hope.

            "Look.  I know you can be a sweet guy when you want to be, and there's no denying that you're good-looking, but…  Well, I love Ron."

            "You love your tears?"

            Hermione was slightly shocked at this, but she was even more so when Draco leaned closer toward her.  Her eyes locked on his, unable to turn away from the depths that had once contained cold steel, but which now seemed like clouds, surrounding her until she knew nothing but those two deep, comforting pools.  A cool, gentle wind crossed between them, sending a chill down Hermione's spine.  It felt as though her heart was dancing inside of her, and she wasn't even sure if she was breathing anymore.  She was shaking, confused, unsure.  Their noses were almost touching, and if Hermione simply leaned forward…

            "I gotta go," she said hastily, turning away and practically running off up to the castle.

            Draco stood there a moment, looking as though he had just found out he failed a test that he was sure he had passed.  He sat on the bench, leaning against the castle wall and staring up at the dimming sky.  Then slowly, as if uncertain of its right to be there, a smile came to Draco's face.  Maybe he'd passed after all.

****

            Harry sat up that night, unable to sleep.  How could he sleep?  It was all too much.  He hated Draco right then, for being too friendly.  He hated Hermione for not trying harder to be Azar's best friend.  He even hated Azar for not just forgetting all he'd said.  But most of all, he hated himself.

            He pulled apart his bed curtains, standing to pace the room.  What use was it to lie in bed and pretend he might fall asleep?

            How was this happening?  Everything had been a fairy tale less than a week ago, and now…  Now he'd destroyed it all.

            Harry glanced himself in the mirror, then quickly turned away, walking to the window.  There was a full moon out, peering through the dark clouds that had failed to bring rain.  He wondered where Remus was, how he was doing.  He'd had such little time to ask.

            There was a breeze outside, causing a wave of grass to ripple across the grounds.  The shadows of the Forbidden Forest shook violently, but the shadow of Hogwarts Castle stood steady.  Except…  For a moment Harry thought a turret had been uprooted and he was watching its running shadow.  But no, it was a figure, darting onto the grounds.  A very familiar figure…

            Harry leaned against the glass, but couldn't see well enough.  He jerkily opened the window to peer closer, letting in a cold wind that caused his sleeping roommates to pull their covers up higher.  He leaned so far he nearly tipped out of the window, having to catch himself quickly.  Yes, there was no denying it.  That retreating figure was the very focus of his troubled sleep.  Or lack of it.

            Harry rushed to the dormitory door, not even bothering to grab his invisibility cloak.  The way Azar was running…it was erratic, as if she wasn't even thinking.  Though he knew it was ridiculous, Harry's mind immediately leapt to "hinkypunk."

            The halls were empty, teachers too busy with start-of-term planning to be patrolling.  He easily made it to the grounds, heading straight for the Forbidden Forest where he'd last seen Azar.  She was nowhere in sight.  He entered the forest hesitantly.  There was no way to know where she was, if even she was in the forest.  He was about to turn back when he heard a distant whimpering.  Feeling as if there was no other choice, Harry followed it, groping his way blindly through the trees until he came upon a clearing.  There, lit in part by the moon's silver light, Azar stood limply, clutching to a tree and sobbing for all she was worth.  Harry froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, then slowly made his way towards her.

            "Azar?" he asked quietly, coming up to her.

            Catching him off guard, she spun around with a cry and struck him hard across the face with her open palm.  He staggered backward, glasses askew.  When he'd caught his balance, he saw she was once again clutching to the tree, crying as hard as ever.

            "Azar, what's the matter?" he asked, rushing up to her and pinning her arms in an embrace.

            Her terrified scream was his answer.  She struggled wildly against him, clawing his arms, twisting and turning with all her might, that scream ever present.  Harry tried to hold tight to her, not to let her go.

            "Azar, it's me!  It's Harr-"

            Her feet connected with the tree, shoving them both backward.  Harry's breath was knocked from him as he hit the ground.  With a shove and a scream, Azar leapt up and started running, but didn't get far before her foot hit a root.  She sprawled roughly to the ground, and didn't move.  Limping slightly, Harry walked over to her, worried she might have hit her head.  To his surprise, she wasn't unconscious; she was crying too hard to get up.

            "Azar," he said quietly, kneeling next to her, "It's okay, Azar.  It's me, Harry.  It's okay…"

            She spun around, and for a moment Harry was afraid she'd hit him again.  Instead, she flung her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder.  He gently put his arms around her, as a parent might to a frightened child.  But it was Harry who was frightened.  He felt numb.  This had to be a dream; it just couldn't be happening.  But the cold wind, Azar's tears on his robes, the bruise developing on his jaw… these were real.  This just couldn't be Azar.  She never acted like this.  Azar didn't cry; she smiled, she laughed, she joked.  Azar Zundel didn't cry…

            Slowly, Azar's sobs subsided, until Harry could tell by her breathing that she was asleep.  He looked down at her, tears shining on her cheeks in the sparse moonlight that found its way through the trees.  Tears came to his eyes.  This couldn't be happening.  Why was this happening?  His life had been, for once, perfect, and now it was falling apart.

            "Are you all right, Harry Potter?"

            Harry turned around to see a strange figure coming out of the trees, a being he hadn't seen since his first year at Hogwarts.

            "Yes, I'm fine, Firenze," he said, though it was far from the truth.

            "I heard screams unnatural to this forest."

            "It was my friend," Harry answered, looking back down at Azar.

            Firenze peered at whom Harry was cradling.  "Azar Zundel.  Yes, I know of her."

            "You do?"

            "Every centaur knows when a Seer lives.  Such a young girl…"  He reached down, petting her hair paternally.  "She is a gifted child, in more than one way.  Through every thing and person she has seen, she has tried to find the good, tried to find a reason to smile.  In what she saw tonight, there was no good.  Only evil."

            "What did she see?"

            "That I do not know, Harry Potter," Firenze said, shaking his head, "Prophecies are seen only in the mind of the Seer.  It is best if she sleeps.  Take her up to the castle and put her someplace comfortable.  Watch over her, Harry Potter.  This will not be an easy night for her."

            Harry nodded and stood up, still cradling Azar.

            "My, you've grown," Firenze smiled, putting his hands on his hips, "This can't be the same boy I met all those years ago."

            Harry smiled slightly, nodding.

            "You've been through much, Harry Potter.  I've heard stories of your… adventures.  You must have grown in more than one way from that young frightened boy in the forest."

            "I know a lot more, if that's what you mean.  That's not always a blessing, though…" Harry shook his head sadly.

            "You should try to find less troublous friends, Harry Potter," Firenze added as Harry started to walk off, "Your life is filled with enough pain.  You don't need friends who expand it."

            Harry spun around, eyes narrowing.  "I would rather die than desert Azar.  Especially when she needs me most."

            Firenze smiled slightly.  "Good," he said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Such devotion is exactly what she needs."

~*~*~

A/N:  Many days and a bag of sunflower seeds later, here's chapter 12.  I'm sorry, I would have had it up a week ago, but I felt unsure about it, so I asked Allison (aka the great writer Naralina) to read it over and tell me what to change.  Thus, she sent me a very wonderful email with great advice.  I only hope that I put said advice to good use. ^_^

            I hope I caught a few of you off guard.  I wasn't even sure myself where this was going, but it had to go somewhere. (One scene I had written ½ way through fic year 6, and another I wrote at the start of this one.  The rest just came along for the ride. ^_^)

            Questions, questions, questions.  Me oh my, oh my.  I'll leave it to you to ask them, of course. ^-^  Not that you'll get an answer anytime soon, but hey, feel free.  And sorry there was no James here, but he faded temporarily.  Promise he'll be back soon to answer all questions. ^_^

            Thank you all who were kind enough to take the time and tell me what you thought about the last chapter!

**Kelly:**  No doubt about it, eh? *grins mischieviously*  lol  Kelly, you're just fun, you know that?  Well, you are!  *sigh* AIM?  I'll have to look into it.  And I thought getting MSNmessenger would solve all my problems. ^_^  Thanks!

**Taracollowen:**  No, no, I LOVE long reviews!  But so often they contain many questions I can't answer. ^_^  Ooh, one I can delve into!  About Draco and the seeming lack of emotion connection w/ the group.  During the summer, it was because of distance.  Now, the feelings aren't quite that rush they need to be.  See, w/ the Revero Detinu spell, not all feelings are shared, just the strong surges.  Yeah, it's a complicated spell.  No más; lo siento. ^_^  Thanks!

**Naralina:**  Yes, more to Percy, but, yeah, no digo nada.  Lol.  And YES, of course I'll elaborate on Snape/ Juni.  And you pronounce her name right!  Very good!  Thanks, Bill, especially for the help. ^_^

**Jeanne:**  Hey, no prob.  I'm having the same problem, so I totally understand.  Thanks for the review!

**Trisiana:**  ^_^  Nope, no breaking Harry's heart (much) for me.  Thanks!

**Raven of Death:**  *grins*  I feel that way every math class.  Thanks.

**jona:**  Well, I'm glad you like the subplots, because they drive me nuts! ^_^  Thanks!

**chrestomanci:**  Possibilities, possibilities. ^_^  Thanks.

**Laurs:**  Thanks!

**abbey:**  Thanks!

**sweets:**  *evil grin*  Why, I'm sure I have no idea whatsoever what you mean. ^_^  Thanks!

**Sophie Black:**  Heehee, I like your soul. ^_^  And I'm sorry Sirius was acting not-so-nice, but don't worry, he simply snapped a bit.  Thanks!  And thanks for updating me on HP and day of dreams!

**Mrs. Grim:**  LOL  Sorry, nada on Ethie.  Except that that is a nickname. lol  Sorry for the lack of Sirius again.  Thanks for the review!

**1726dedicatedfan:**  1.  Ah, shoot.  I hate it when I miss something like that. 2.  They weren't that far.  In my mind, the forest goes along one bank of the lake, so it's not that far.  But also, I know very little about hinkypunks, only that which Lupin taught. *shrug* I claim creative license. ^_^ 3. Yeah, one of my lazy bouts.  *sigh*   Yes, well, whatever I say, I'm joking, because I do enjoy the nitpicking. ^_^  Thanks!

**Moon Warrior:**  Heehee, thanks!

**ninabeaner:**  ^_^  Thanks!  And I'd be glad to post more often, but I claim lack of time due to school.  After the week of May 6th, though, things should ease up there, so I can get some serious writing done. (Heh, watch, I'll get writer's block, I know it. ^_^)

**Super saya-Jin Gotan:**  Thanks!  So is that what makes a Mary Sue?  I'd thought I had a good idea of what a Mary Sue was, but then I heard someone say a char. in another fic was a Mary Sue, and I'd have NEVER thought her to be a Mary Sue. *sigh*  

**BlueIce:**  Lol  Thanks. ^-^  And sorry, still can't reveal anything about James.

***Jay*:**  Made me do a double take when I saw those reviews. ^_^  Thanks!  And about Juni, she saw V's destruction at the school she taught at.  I'd go into it more, but I don't know what I want to keep underwraps, so it'll all stay that way. ^_^

**Lady Grizabella:**  ^_^  Thanks!

            Well, yes, I'd better sign off before I go into my lamentations of not being asked to Prom.  You really don't want to hear that, I promise you.

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	13. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slyth...

Dedication:  This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful Lady Grizabella!!!  Why?  Check the A/N. *grins happily*

Chapter 13:  Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin

            Harry Potter stood in the Gryffindor common room, watching the outside world slowly wake up.  He, however, hadn't slept all night.  The whole time he'd been waiting for Azar to wake, though she had barely stirred from the couch since he'd brought her up.  Initially he'd thought to take her to the hospital wing, but decided against it, in case Azar had another fit and he'd have to explain that which wasn't his to tell.  The common room was the only place he could think of where she could sleep comfortably.  Other than his dormitory, of course, but living nearly seven years in a castle full of teenagers had taught him, if nothing else, that a good explanation would be needed, and even then no one would believe him.  The sky began to lighten from gray when Harry heard Azar finally stir.  He rushed over to her, watching with shot nerves as she opened her eyes.

            She stared at him groggily for a moment, then gave a big yawn.  "Hey Harry."

            Gingerly, she set herself up on her elbows, looking around.

            "I seriously thought I'd never say this, but, where am I?" she asked, grinning incredulously.

            He didn't return the smile.  "The Gryffindor common room."

            "So this is what it looks like?" she asked, sitting up fully and taking a better look, "Nice.  I thought it'd look just like the Ravenclaw common room, except with red and gold, but this is actually quite different.  I think I like Ravenclaw better."

            She grinned wider at him, but he just stared, unspeaking, unmoving.

            "Uh…why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, "And why am I here, for that matter?"

            This gave Harry a very unpleasant jolt.  It wasn't like she was joking, not that she would joke about such a thing.  She didn't know.

            "You mean, you don't remember?  Anything?"

            "What do you mean?"

            "About last night.  Do you remember anything about last night?"

            "You mean as in pitch-black, not evening, night?  No.  Why?  What'd I do?"

            Harry sank into an armchair, not thinking he could hold himself up much longer.  He put his face in his hands a moment, then closed them, as if he was praying, in front of his mouth, looking at her.

            "No…dreams?  Do you remember leaving your room?"

            Her eyes went a bit wide, and she shook her head.  Harry pulled his hands through his hair, staring at the floor and thinking.

            "Harry, I don't like silence.  What's going on?"

            He looked at her, opened his mouth to speak then closed it.  "I don't know," he said after a moment.

            "Well, mind telling me what happened last night at least?"

            "I…I don't know."

            "You mean you don't know what happened last night?"

            "No.  I don't know…if I should tell you."

            Azar's mouth hung open a moment, then slowly closed.  "Oh.  You don't think I have a right to know what's going on in my life?"

            "No, no, it's not that.  I'm not even sure myself, Azar.  It's too much.  I want to talk to someone less involved, sort things out with less confusion."

            "Harry, something, anything, the smallest tidbit of what happened," Azar pleaded.

            "I believe…not sure, but I think you had a prophecy," he said delicately.

            "Really?  But I thought I had those enough under control that I could remember them."

            "This one was different.  According to Firenze—"

            "Whoa, who's Firenze?"

            "A centaur."

            "What?"

            Harry stood up, shaking his head.  "See?  It just doesn't make sense right now.  I want to ask someone about it."

            Azar squinted her eyes, raising an eyebrow.

            "I'm asking you to trust me on this, Azar," he pleaded.

            Relenting, she sighed, standing up.  "Okay, but find out soon," she said, tilting his chin up, "I expect a full report tonight.  Hey, what happened to your cheek?  Don't tell me you got in a fight."

            She gently touched the bruise on his cheek, causing him to wince.  "Don't you recognize your handiwork?" he asked, giving the closest thing to a smile he had the whole morning.

            "You're joking," she said, surprised, "Harry legs, you better hurry and figure things out, 'cause I'm starting to get worried."

            "No, that was the worst thing you did.  Well, that and a few bruised ribs," he said, that smile growing.

            "You're joking!" she cried, almost in a laugh, "Lemme see.  Lift your shirt."

            "No, I was kidding, Azar," he said, trying to stop her from checking, "If it was really bad, I would go to Madam Pomfrey."

            "Well, how do you know if it's bad if you haven't checked it," she insisted, trying to lift his shirt while he tried to keep it down.

            "Azar, let me keep some dignity, okay?"

            "Oh, come on!" she cried, straightening up in a huff, "What would a peek hurt?"

            Her eyes glanced over his shoulder and then her hand went to her mouth in shock.  Harry spun around to see Neville Longbottom standing at the foot of the stairs, staring at them with mild surprise.

            "I'll just go back to the dormitory and pretend I didn't see a thing, shall I?" he asked.

            Azar burst out laughing, doubling over and trying very unsuccessfully to control herself.  Harry looked back and forth between Azar and Neville, getting redder and redder.

            "I'll just take that as a yes," Neville said, heading back up the stairs.

            After Neville had gone, Azar still laughing, Harry looked at her, tucking in his shirt.  "That probably didn't sound too good, did it?"

            "No-o," she snorted, "But my, that was funny.  I should probably go, shouldn't I?"

            "Unless you want to go over that 'what would a peek hurt?' bit again so Paravati can here it."

            Azar cracked up again.  "Now that would be rich!  But I'd better head over to Ravenclaw before they send a search party out for me.  Bye, Harry."

            "Bye, Azar," he smiled.

            She headed away for the portrait hole and Harry turned for the dormitory, mulling over whether or not he should tell Neville what was going on.

            "Uh, Harry?" Azar called.

            "Yes?"

            "How do you get out?"

            "Just through the hole," he laughed, "Push against the back of the portrait."

            "Oh.  Okay, thanks.  Bye again!  I'll see you at breakfast."

            "Bye."

            Chuckling to himself, Harry walked up the stairs, deciding on the way that he'd just let Neville think what he may.

****

            Harry had decided to skip lunch to talk to Sirius and ask for advice.  For some reason, all that happened last night didn't seem very frightening now that it was day.  Things always seemed to work out that way.

            Firmly, he knocked on Sirius' classroom door.

            "Come in!" called a voice that sounded a little more than slightly stressed.

            Harry went in to find Sirius digging through his desk.  Various papers were on the desk, drawers, and floor, undoubtedly where they had been flung.

            "Sirius?" he asked tentatively.

            Sirius looked up for a second saying, "Oh, hello Harry," before he disappeared back into the desk.

            "Can I—"

            "Where did I put that bloody notebook?!" Sirius yelled, slamming shut the drawer he'd been rummaging through.

            "Uh, having trouble?" Harry asked.

            "Oh, no, I'm having the time-of-my-life," his godfather answered tersely, diving into another drawer, "I just lost my notepad that had in it my teaching agenda…for the next three months!"

            "I guess this isn't a good time…"

            "No, no, my door is always open.  Shoot away," he said, not looking up.

            "Well…um, last night—"

            "You blasted sheet!" Sirius said angrily to a paper he was gripping tightly, "Where were you when I needed you yesterday?!"

            "Um, never mind," Harry said, "I'll go see Dumbledore.  Bye, Sirius.  And good luck in finding the notebook."

            Sirius muttered something inaudible as Harry left.  He swiftly headed for Dumbledore's office, hoping he wouldn't be late for Transfiguration.  It wasn't until he reached the stone gargoyle, however, that he realized he didn't know the password.  For a moment, he looked the gargoyle up and down.

            "No chance you'd just open for me, right?"

            The gargoyle gave him a dark look.

            "Thought so," Harry sighed, looking around, "Professor Dumbledore!  You in there?!"

            "Did the gargoyle eat Dumbledore?"

            Harry spun around to find Azar.  "Oh, hi; no.  I just…was wanting to talk to him and…don't know the password."

            "Earwax," she said matter-of-factly, "But you may need to wait in line.  Ackerley just told me I was supposed to go to Dumbledore's office.  You can come in with me, of course."

            Considering it was Azar Harry wanted to talk about, it was a bit of an awkward situation, but he agreed.  When they walked through the door, Dumbledore was apparently very surprised to see Harry.

            "Mr. Potter.  I wasn't expecting you until much later."

            "Huh?" Harry asked.

            "You weren't told to come and see me?" Dumbledore said, confused.

            "No.  I just wanted to speak with you."

            Dumbledore's eyes sparkled slightly.  "Well, so much the better.  What I have to say concerns both of you in any case.  Sit, sit."

            Glancing at each other, Harry and Azar took two of the three chairs right across from Dumbledore.  Expectantly, and a little nervously, they waited for their headmaster to speak.  He stared back at them for a while, his fingertips together.

            "There is no easy way to go about this," he finally said, "Granted, I have made this speech once before, but I feel if I rush it, I will only create confusion.  So I'll start from the beginning.  September 3rd, 1973, you parents, Harry, had their first Divination class.  It went through as usual, Professor Trelawney predicting the death of one terrified student, and the class left.  Your mother stayed after a while to speak with Professor Trelawney.  Your father soon came back, too, saying he had forgotten his Transfiguration book.  It was then, according to them, that Professor Trelawney went into a trance.

            "I believe I told you once, Harry, that the Professor had had two true predictions.  This was the first.  At least, part of it was.  Wisely, your parents came to me.  As this was the first year of Voldemort's power, it was welcome news."

            "Wait a minute, Professor," Azar interrupted, "You seemed to have forgotten an important part:  the prediction."

            "In time, Miss Zundel, in time," Dumbledore smiled, "Confusion now will make the prediction easier to understand.  As I was saying, this prophecy brought us new hope.  But little.  All it promised was Voldemort's downfall sometime in a span of twenty-five years.  That is to say, sometime before September 3rd, 1998."

            Harry felt a jolt.  That was little less then a year away.

            "I'm sorry, Professor, but what does this have to do with us?" Azar asked.

            "Again, I ask for your patience, Miss Zundel.  First, the prediction."

            He pulled a paper from his desk, cleared his throat and read:

**            "Darkness prepares to swallow the world.  A man whose name will be poison to the tongue gains strength, to rid the world of his father's people.  Until the Stag and Lily unite to make the Lion's Cub, the Dark Lord's hand shall grip all of England…  For eleven years, there shall be terror…until the Lion Cub and Lily bring a certain end.  For eleven years more shall peace reign, then the Dark Lord appears…Within the time of five years and a score, the Four young Heirs of equal age will fell the Serpent, his immortal life ended.  Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin…  each touched by the mark of Zeus.  Five years and a score…and the Dark Lord… shall fall…"**

            "The part we know for truth is of the "lion cub" and "lily".  With little doubt, that was you and your mother, Harry.  It's the second part we now worry about."

            "Four heirs?" Azar asked, not one to mince words, "How do we know who they are?"

            "There are ways, Miss Zundel."

            "Wait," Harry said, confused, "there's no Heir of Slytherin.  I mean, that's Voldemort, and he's the last.  The prophecy was wrong."

            "Ah, but there would have been," Dumbledore said quietly, shaking his head, "Tom Marvolo Riddle had a child."

            Harry felt a panic rise in his chest.  "But in my second year, you told me he was the last—"

            "He is, Harry.  Voldemort killed his son and grandson, which was the reason your parents went into hiding.  We knew why they had been killed:  Voldemort had found out, though how much, we didn't know.  After his downfall, we thought that might be the end, that things had been changed.  We were wrong."  Dumbledore's face darkened.  "The summer before you entered Hogwarts, Harry, the Hufflepuff Heir was killed under suspicious circumstances.  We had every reason to believe it was the work of a Death Eater, and now believe it was most likely Quirrell.  That meant that Voldemort still felt threatened, and that we must still have hope.  We then had the task of finding the true Ravenclaw Heir.  However, it was no help that she seemed to be hiding from us."

            His eyes rested upon Azar, eyes twinkling.  She stared back at him, her eyes gradually getting larger.

            "Me?" she asked, pointing at herself, "I was wondering why I was here!  But… how?  I'm muggleborn."

            "Yes, and no," Dumbledore said with a smile, "You see, the only witch or wizard of Ravenclaw heritage we could find was eighty-six years old, and posed no threat to Voldemort.  We didn't take in the fact, however, that she had a brother.  A squib brother.  Who had lived as a muggle and had a son, who had a daughter…who gave birth to you.  That's why your magic came late in life.  By all accounts, you should be a muggle.  But you have powerful magic running through your veins, and a purpose.  You had to be magic; you had to fill your place."

            "This is more than just a tad bit odd.  Now, how do you know all this about me?"

            "I must admit, I took some license prying into your background, but yours is a very special case.  I wanted to see if there was any magic in your lineage, to see why you came into magic so late.  When I found out to whom you were related to, it all made sense.  And you're a Seer, to top it off.  You see, Rowena herself was a Seer, and she prized the Inner Eye the way Salazar prized parselmouth.  I've little doubt that you are Ravenclaw's Heir, but there's just one test to be sure."

            Azar looked slightly taken aback at these words.  "What kind of test?  And how come Harry doesn't need to take it?"

            Dumbledore chuckled slightly.  "That's because I can plainly see that Harry is an Heir.  Miss Zundel, do you have any scars?"

            "Does Saturn have rings?"

            "Okay, I see I need to be more specific.  Any deep, particularly visible scars?"

            The girl thought a moment.  "Well, my worse is a gash on my stomach I got from a bicycle crash I had when I was six."

            "What does it look like?"

            "Well, it stands out horribly and is very thin and jagged, shaped almost like…"  She faded off, her eyes going as round as sand dollars while her hand went to her abdomen, presumably to the scar.  "Good Lord…  It's shaped like a lightning bolt."

            Almost on its own, Harry's hand went up to his forehead.  "But…what does that have to do with anything?" he asked, "I mean, she got hers from an bike accident; I got mine…well, in a very different way.  Just because they're both shaped like a lightning bolt—"

            "But that has everything to do with it, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted, looking a bit excited.  "Don't you see?  **Each Heir touched by the mark of Zeus.**  The lightning bolt."

            "What about the others?" Azar asked, serious for once, "If the Slytherin and Hufflepuff Heirs were killed…"

            "I think you'll find, Miss Zundel, that despite popular belief, Fate does compromise."

            Harry felt as if his mind was soaring, trying to grasp onto reasoning and thought, and having little luck.  A million memories whizzed through his head, unrecognizable blurs.  And through the chaos in his mind, something stood out:  **"Think you're so special with that scar, Potter?  Take a look at this."**

            "Draco," Harry said, almost to himself.

            "I just knew he was going to do that!" came a voice, soon followed by Draco as he took off his invisibility cloak.  "It figures.  I had even imagined what their faces would look like when I took that off and everything clicked, but of course it didn't happen."

            Despite these lamentations, Draco looked as though he was having a hard time not smiling.  His glowing countenance diminished slightly, though, as he stood there, and Harry and Azar stared at him in shock.  Azar leaned back in her chair, massaging her temples.

            "I'm getting a headache from all this," she groaned.  "And if the next thing you tell me is that Ernie Macmillan is the Hufflepuff Heir, I swear I'll keel over."

            "Oh, thanks," Draco said, almost pouting as he sat down.

            "I didn't mean it that way, Draco.  This is just all too much.  So who is the Heir?  Not Ernie?  Hermione then?"

            Dumbledore chuckled.  "No, even with all the special circumstances under which you three are here, the Heir of Hufflepuff is probably most unique of all.  The original Heir was a girl named Lissa.  When she was eleven, she, her mother, and her younger brother were driving alone one night along a cliff near Dillmouth.  The next morning the car was found at the bottom of a precipice.  The mother and girl were dead.  The coroner was puzzled because it was clear they died before the accident, but eventually ruled that they died of fright during the fall.  The boy, however, survived, with minimal injuries.  The most outstanding cut he had on him was one on his leg, shaped as a lightning bolt."

            "So he's the Heir," Harry finished.

            "Precisely."

            "But who is he?" Azar asked.

            Dumbledore looked at all of them a moment, as if gauging his answer.  "James Bell," he finally said.

            Azar stood up sharply.  "So that's why it happened!"

            This was probably the last reaction Dumbledore had been expecting.

            "The other day," Harry quickly explained, "Azar, Draco, James, and I…made a chain, I guess you could say.  But the moment we were all connected, a surge went through us, almost like…"

            "Electricity.  But not," Draco said.  "It's hard to describe."

            Dumbledore simply nodded.  The room was silent, except for the distant murmur of students in the halls.

            "Why tell us this?" Azar asked quietly. "What are we supposed to do now?"

            "Prepare," Dumbledore said simply.  "We feel that the time when the Heirs will be needed is nearing.  Draco, show them your arm."

            Draco glanced at him, then slowly pulled back his sleeve.  There, on his left forearm, was that scar that proved him an Heir.  It didn't look good, however.  There was a green tinge to it and it appeared sore.

            "That's why my arm hurt when anyone touched it.  It's been bothering me for a while now," he said, looking down at it.  "Dumbledore thinks that since I was the last Heir to get my scar, it may be a gauge, of the time when…well, when the prophecy comes true."

            "So what do we do?" Azar repeated.  "Research ways to defeat Voldemort?"

            Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily.  "I'm afraid, though Miss Granger would surely be dismayed at the news, that not all answers can be found in a library."

            "So how?" Azar asked with a twinge of impatience in her voice.

            "That's something we must discuss another time.  This Sunday, there is to be a meeting in this office, a meeting of the resistance.  I would request that all three of you are there."

            Azar was clearly less than satisfied, but nodded.  "Yes, of course."

            Harry and Draco both nodded.

            "In the mean time," Dumbledore said, his voice stern, "I ask you not to speak of this to Mr. Bell.  Or anyone, for that matter.  Not even Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger."

            "Why?" Harry said.  He'd been thinking this whole time of how to tell his two friends, but not to tell them at all just didn't feel right.

            "This must be kept in the greatest of secrecy, Mr. Potter.  If Voldemort is given even the slightest warning, all of your lives will be in danger."

            As though struck by a sudden chill, a shiver went through the three Heirs.  The room was silent for a moment, yet it seemed very loud at the same time.  Then Azar stood up.

            "Right then," she said with a bit of forced cheerfulness, "I guess we best be off to class.  No reason not to keep up in our grades, eh?"

            The boys stood up, slowly, as if they were unsure their legs worked.

            "Good-bye," Dumbledore said, standing also, "I know all of this may seem like a terrible shock, but I felt you ought to know…before Sunday."

            Draco nodded.  "Yes.  Better to get it over with now, eh?"  He gave a weak laugh.

            "And Harry," Dumbledore said as the three headed away, "I'd like to speak to you alone a moment."

            Harry glanced at Azar, then nodded.  After his two friends had left, he turned to Dumbledore questioningly.

            "That wasn't the full prediction, Harry," Dumbledore said with a slight hesitation, "I hold back some for my own reasons, but I want you to know a line, for it concerns you, I believe."

            "What is it?"

            "**And in his struggle, the Lion Cub shall be struck down by the Serpent's final fang**."

            Harry was silent a second, then with a grim smile he said, "Well, I was wondering why nothing like that had shown up.  Seemed a little suspicious."

            "I don't tell you this to scare you, Harry," Dumbledore assured him, "Simply to ask that you be—"

            "Careful," Harry finished for him, "That's becoming a rather hackneyed phrase for me, Professor.  But I promise I will."

            "It won't be the easiest promise to keep, Harry.  There will be circumstances where your heart, however noble its intentions, will dispel your mind.  Mankind is significant because it has both, and without one or the other, one acts less a man and more an animal."

            Harry smiled slightly.  "I'll remember that."

            As they headed down the stairs out of the office, Harry was quiet, in thought.

            "I hope this doesn't get in the way of your life, Harry," Dumbledore said, "I don't want you worrying about it.  Not yet."

            "Oh, I'm not.  I was just thinking about Sirius.  He's…er, having a tough time right now."

            Dumbledore's eyes sparkled.  "Yes, I felt he would.  He was always a bit of a carefree student.  Brilliant enough to make up for it, but very much a class clown.  One teacher even quit because of him."

            "He's sure getting his comeuppance now," Harry smiled.

            "Why do you think I hired him?" Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily.

            Harry burst out laughing.

            As the gargoyle opened, Dumbledore told Harry good-bye and watched as the boy walked down the hall.  The spark leaving his eyes, Dumbledore whispered something under his breath:

            "**One by one they fall, during times of celebration.  Only the Battle will stop the cycle, with one pure of heart in intention**."

~*~*~

A/N:  Okay, for anyone who figured out it was Draco right before Harry had his memory flashback, 10 points.  For those who knew it right when Azar told about her scar, 25 points.  And for those who figured it out after hearing the prophecy, 50 points.  And for those who just knew Draco was in the room right from the start, 100 points! ^-^

            Oh my gosh, I can't write Dumbledore to save my life!  Why?!  Sheesh, he's my trouble char all right.

            You know, that could be much better, less rushed, but it's been, what, 3 weeks since I got one up, so I don't care.  (Sure am chipper, aren't I?)

            Guess what?  Ady's been reading some of the earlier chapters, and Ady has found that she is oh-so-very forgetful. *sheepish grin*  Yeah, so now Ady is trying to remember—or reinvent—certain reasonings and stuff.  Yeah, oh dear.  Ignore me, I can't think very well right now. *sigh*

            Thank you to everyone who reviewed!!!

**Tarawen:**  Of course it was a good prophecy! j/k ^_^  Thanks!

**Moon Warrior:**  Bah, I knew it!  Don't worry, I'll try not to let it happen again.  And yes, Firenze was meant like that. ^_^  Thanks!

**Sophie Black:**  O.O  Harry can't die!  At least not in the real books.  I don't mind (well, too much) when people kill him off in fanfics, but if he dies in the real one… wah, I couldn't take it!  Thanks!

**Sandrine Black:**  ^_^  Thanks!

**Abbey:**  *grins*  I'm not saying don't believe in Ron/Herm, but I'm "expanding my boundaries", in a way. ^_^  Thanks!

**Jeanne:**  ^_^  Thanks!

**Alec Kazaam:**  *grins*  I know I told you before, but that's just the coolest name. ^_^  Heehee, of course I wanted to rock some confidence.  What fun is certainty?  Yeah, there is a def. lack of Firenze in the books.  Can't say I'll go much against tradition, but hey, ya never know.  Yeah, I wasn't sure about the title myself.  I think I just tried too hard with it, and flopped.  *grins*  Ah yes, the Fido scenes.  I was fairly pleased with those myself, and the response I got makes me realize that I can do that kind of stuff and not seem oh-so-very odd.  Thanks!

**chrestomanci:**  Too much drama for me, too. *grin*  Thanks!

**jona:**  LOL  Okay, just to set your mind at ease, I would NEVER put Ron and Lavender together. (Though Lav would like to think differently.  Don't tell her, though.  I don't want to crush her little ego.  Yet. ^_^)  Thank you!

**Mrs. Grim:**  ^_^  Thanks.  See, problem with me is I always go for the guys way out of my league. *sigh*

**Ninir:**  *blushes*  Thank you.

**sweets:**  lol  Hey, how could you forget your password, huh?  *waggles finger*  For shame. ^_^  Thanks!

**Trisana:**  ^_^  A lot of people think that.  *bwa-ha-ha*  Thanks!

**Nalleen Riddle:**  ^_^  Thanks!

***Jay*:**  That's okay.  *grins happily*  Yes, more Juni, and def. more James, as you can see. ^_^  Thanks!

**suger:**  Thanks!  I did e-mail you back, didn't I?  Shoot, it's been too long, I can't remember!  Er…I'll have to check.  Sorry, but I'm so bad about replying and everything. *sigh*

**summersun:**  Thanks! ^_^

            Yes, well, thank you all!

            And yes, now a BIG thanks to Lady Grizabella!  She drew fanart of my fics!!! *hugs her*  Thank you!  Here are the drawings if you wanna see them:
    
    http://www.angelfire.com/musicals/ladygrizabella/images/draco_ginny_dead.jpg  -- Day of Dreams (spoiler!)

http://www.angelfire.com/musicals/ladygrizabella/images/draco_azar_harry.gif  --World of Change
    
    http://www.angelfire.com/musicals/ladygrizabella/images/draco_harry_collar.jpg  --Seer's Prophecy

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	14. Conversations

Chapter 14:  Conversations

            "So?" Azar asked expectantly, folding her arms.

            "So…what?" Harry asked, confused.

            After going through their final classes that day and an unusually silent dinner, Azar had yanked Harry outside, where they stood now.

            "So, I certainly hope you did whatever you needed to do, 'cause now you need to come clean with everything."

            "What?"

            She sighed.  "Why don't I ever know if you're playing dumb on purpose?  The prophecy, Harry legs!  Or whatever.  Just tell me what happened last night."

            His eyes went wide as the realization struck him.  With all that had happened that afternoon, he'd completely forgotten about what had happened that morning.  "I forgot!  I didn't even get to talk to Dumbledore about it!"

            "Too bad, you had a time limit," Azar said triumphantly, "Now talk."

            Harry ran a hand through his hair, giving a sigh.  "I guess there's no way out of it.  Well, to keep it short, I found you in the Forbidden Forest."

            "The Forbidden Forest?"

            "Don't do that," he said sternly, "No repeating."

            "Sorry," she said with a slight smile.

            He shook his head, far from smiling.  "You were hysterical, Azar," he said with the air of someone jumping from a plane, "I've never seen you that way.  You couldn't stop crying, and when I first came up to you…well, that's how I got the bruise.  It wasn't until you fell that you relaxed a bit more.  You fell asleep, and then Firenze came.  I'd met him my first year at Hogwarts.  He knew about you, your abilities, and he said you saw something this time that was unlike anything you'd ever seen.  That it was just…evil."

            Azar was silent, concern in her eyes.  "I…don't remember a thing."

            "That's what I like least," Harry said quietly, "It's like before."

            Azar took a deep breath then started pacing slightly.  "I don't get it.  I thought I had everything under control, but this…"  She furrowed her brow.  "Why is this different?"

            "Have you ever read anything about something like this?" Harry asked.

            "No," she sighed, "but I've never gone that far into reading about seers and all that rot.  I guess now is the time."

            Harry smiled slightly.  "Always is.  Are you sure you can't remember anything?"

            "No.  Who knows what I could remember later," she shrugged, "I guess sleeping on it would be good."

            With a sudden laugh, she shook her head, smiling.  "Some day, huh?"

            "Truer words were never spoken," he agreed.

            "Care for a walk, Mr. Potter?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

            "Sure," he smiled.

            It wasn't until the sun had set and darkness enveloped the grounds that they finally returned to the castle.

            "Where's Ron, Seamus?" Harry asked as the boy was stacking some Exploding Snap cards.

            "In the dormitory," he replied, all his attention concentrated on the cards.

            Harry walked up the candlelit stairs to the dormitory, wondering if he should tell Ron about today.  Well, about Azar at least.  He knew he couldn't say anything about the Heirs.

            "I dunno, Perc," Harry heard Ron say as he entered.

            "You have changed a lot, little brother," Percy's voice came from behind Ron's bed curtains, presumably where Ron was also screened, "You have to learn.  I can't tell you why, but you must.  Trust me.  I would never put you in any danger.  And in any case, I can put things right if they go wrong."

            "How would you do that?!" Ron cried, a little agitated, "You can't even hold a wand!  I don't want to spend the rest of my seventh year sp-…"

            Suddenly, Ron opened the bed curtains, peering out as Percy flew out.

            "Oh, hey Harry," Ron said jovially.

            Harry stared at Ron a moment, then slowly looked over at Percy who was trying to not look guilty.  "Hey Ron.  Hi Percy," he said, unsure, "What's going on?"

            "Oh, nothing," Ron said, smiling wider than was natural.

            "O…kay," Harry said slowly.

            "If you'll excuse me, Harry," Percy said, nodding his head politely, "I'll speak with you later, Ron."

            With that, he floated through the wall.  Harry looked back at Ron, cocking his head a little.

            "Uh, so, what have you been doing all day?" Ron asked awkwardly.

            Harry laughed slightly.  "Well, according to your definition, nothing."

            Ron bobbed his head, looking at the ground, then back at Harry with a smile.  "That much, eh?"

****

            "You always did have a knack for coming in at the wrong time," Snape muttered as his little sister entered his sleeping quarters.

            "No, you always had the knack for being in the wrong position when I wanted to talk," she replied as he took off his shirt.  Underneath was a small silver chain necklace, holding two simple silver rings.

            "So, what do you want to talk about?" he asked, sitting on his bed and proceeding to take off his boots.

            "Did I say I wanted to talk?" she replied flatly.

            Snape just shook his head, removing his last boot and then going to his wardrobe and taking out a nightshirt.  Juniata watched him pensively.  It was clear by the expression on her face that she did want to talk, but to admit it was another thing.

            "You still have them," Juniata suddenly said, staring at the necklace with rings.

            Snape didn't need to ask what she was talking about.  "They've never left me," he said quietly, pulling on his nightshirt.

            "How the empty-hearted hold onto hollow promises," she scoffed.

            Snape gave her a sharp look, but didn't speak.

            "You, of all people, should have known better, Severus," Juniata said callously, as if refuting a remark he'd said, "Your great master never took kindly anyone that had anything to do with muggles, so why would Ethelindi be an exception?  You are just a fool, blinded by greed."

            "Greed?!" he snapped, "That's what runs my life then, is it?  So I suppose greed is why I teach here in a vexing, thankless job?"

            "No," she said simply, "You teach here because of your cowardice."

            Snape's eyes flashed dangerously.  He turned away from her, then spun back around.  "I hate you," he said, the words tumbling out like from a child rather than from the cold Potions teacher, "I absolutely, truly hate you."

            Though he had not really intended this to have an effect on his younger sister, it did.  The bitter façade melted away easily, revealing a shocked and hurt little girl.

            "You've made my life miserable," Snape ranted on, not noticing, or not caring, what his sister felt, "And I don't mean just now.  It was bad enough to go through school poor, but to have a squib sister…"

            "Did you never think how I felt, a squib with a wizard for a brother?" she said, trying to sound spiteful.

            "How could I help it?" he said angrily.

            "And how could I!" she fumed, "But I never hated you for being a wizard, Brother.  No, I envied you, but couldn't hate."

            "I don't hate you for being a squib!" he shouted, "I never reached that low.  You turned your back on me, right when I needed you the most!"

            "I?  You are highly mistaken, Professor.  It was you who abandoned us."

            "You could have done something to stop me!" he said heavily, his voice cracking.

            "I was seventeen, Severus!" Juniata yelled, "What was I supposed to do?!  And if Ethie couldn't stop you, how was I supposed to?!"

            "You could have tried," he said quietly, sitting on the bed.

            "And how was I supposed to know?" she hissed, "We didn't even know each other, Severus.  You were in your world, and I in mine.  How could I see the change?"

            "You knew me better than anyone, Juni.  Better than Mum and Dad, far better than even Ethie.  More than anything, I wanted someone to stop me.  That Christmas, before…everything…  I was counting on you then, praying you'd see something, know something, do something."  His voice faded slightly.  "But you didn't.  You failed me."

            She glared at him, then turned sharply, walking over and staring at the wall.  "You failed yourself."

            Snape sat there, looking at his sister but not really seeing her.  Her arms were folded, and she gripped tight to them with her hands, trying to control temper and tears.  She tried to hold back the words, but it was hard to do so with someone she'd once been so open with.  They just came out.

            "We weren't even brother and sister by that point," she said stiffly, "Not really.  We hadn't been since you ended your sixth year."

            Snape looked up, his attention fully on Juniata.  "What?"

            She gave a derisive laugh, turning slightly.  "Don't you remember?"

            He simply waited for her to explain.

            "You had just come out of Platform 9 ¾.  I was waiting happily for you."  She spoke directly to the wall now.  "I asked about the year, and you replied flatly.  Then someone called out from behind us.  'Oh look, it's little squiby!'  It was those boys, those Pirates or whatever they called themselves."

            "Marauders," he said quietly.

            "Those Marauders.  And you didn't say anything."  Her voice had gone very quiet now, but Snape caught every word.  "They mocked me again and again, and you just walked on.  And I knew you were ashamed of me.  I haven't had a brother since."

            "That's absurd!" he blurted out, "I was distracted, Juni."

            "Oh yes.  I know why, too.  It was that girl, wasn't it?" she said, turning to him.

            He scowled, looking at the floor.

            "Of course it was," she scorned, "You take it out on the boy, now; I could tell by the way he reacted to me.  Whether more because of the father or the mother, however, I cannot tell."

            "I treat him as I treat every other student," he replied in a growl.

            "I don't see how you got by so long on lies, Severus," she scoffed, "You loved her, or at least thought you did, and were crushed after that year."

            "So you see why I wasn't quite up to going against the Marauders," he said matter-of-factly.

            "You had an excuse to be distant, but you abandoned me.  You left me to the wolves, Severus."

            "I was hurting, Juni!"

            "Well I hurt, too!" she cried, turning back to the wall.

            Both were silent, lost in unspoken anger.  The steady ticking of a wall clock was the only reminder that anything lived in the room.  Then Snape looked up at the back of her head, almost apologetically.

            "I was never ashamed of you," he said hollowly.

            "That's a laugh," she replied, though her voice didn't sound anywhere near laughter.

            "I'm not lying, Juni.  You were…are my little sister.  I hated the insults, was angry, even with you sometimes, but I was never ashamed of you."

            She didn't move for a while, her back still to him, but slowly turned her head.  Their eyes met.  The pain and hopelessness in each was evident, and for the briefest of moments, brother and sister were connected by mutual suffering.  But then the moment was gone.

            "I wish I could say the same," she said quietly, voice absent of malice.

            Neither moved for a moment, then Juniata walked out without another word.

****

            "Hello, stranger."

            Sirius looked up and gave a cry of surprise, for Professor Connerly was sitting cross-legged on top of his desk.

            "Sorry to interrupt your apparently intriguing conversation with your arm, but I decided to pop in," she smiled.

            "How'd you sneak in like that?" he asked, groggily wiping his eyes.

            "I find that those who are in the depths of despair don't have good hearing."

            "I guess not," he sighed, slumping forward a bit.

            "Having some trouble with the teaching business?" she asked after a moment.

            "Understatement of the century," he said, pouting slightly.

            "Care for some tips?"

            "I guess it couldn't hurt," he consented, a little reluctantly.

            "Okay, tip number one:" she said importantly, holding up a finger, "Breathe."

            His face broke into a smile, and he gave the first real laugh he had in a long while.

            "By gum, is that Sirius Black?!" Connerly exclaimed in surprise, "I was sure he'd gone a long time ago, and that I had been speaking with The Professor."

            "I guess I haven't been myself, have I?" he asked with a smile.  She grinned knowingly.

            "I have gotten rather bad," he continued with a sigh, "Just the other day, Harry came in wanting to talk to me, and I ignored him.  I didn't really want to, but at the time I simply thought, 'Who gives a damn?'"

            "That's why you need to relax," she soothed, "The world doesn't end if your lesson plan isn't perfect.  In fact, imperfection makes perfection; the best things can come from that which wasn't planned."

            "Then all my lessons must be perfect," he said, teasing her.

            She put her hand under his chin, tilting his head up towards hers.  "You're doing quite well, actually.  You just need to clear your mind every once in a while."

            And then, much to Sirius' surprise and pleasure, she leaned forward and kissed him.  When she pulled back, he stared at her a moment, then broke into a smile.

            "Well that does nothing at all to clear my mind!"

            She smiled.  "At least I tried."

            Sliding off the desk, Connerly headed for the door.

            "You know," Sirius called after her, "you could try again any time you'd like."

            Laughing, she opened the door.  "Sure thing, Professor."

~*~*~

A/N:  *sigh*  Short?  Yes.  Good enough to make up for the shortness?  No.  *wince*  Sorry.

            I swear, I do have some good things coming up.  And I'd get to them if I would start writing instead of reading them. *shakes head*  Summer has finally come, and I'm wasting it!!!  Blah.

            But my, I was surprised at how many people jumped to the conclusion that I'm killing Harry.  I thought you had more faith in me than that. ^_^  I have just two words for you:  assume nothing.

            Well, thank you everyone who reviewed!!!

**yerbroham:**  ^_^  Thanks.  And yes, there is much more of the prophecy we haven't heard.  I would NEVER make it that simple.  ^-^  Yeah, I agree on Sirius.  I don't even know why I stuck that in.  Just glad to hear from you again! ^_^

**Alec Kazaam:**  Thanks!  lol

**Jeanne:**  I figured James is a special case, especially thanks to his age, and the fact that he's not quite got the relationships Harry, Azar, and Draco have.  That is a funny coincidence.  ^_^  Thanks!

**summersun:**  *grins*  Thanks!

**abbey:**  Yah for points! ^_^  Thanks!

**jona:**  Really?  Thanks!!!

**chrestomanci:**  Yah for you!!!  Thanks!

**Naralina:**  Wow, thank you.

**Tarawen:**  Thanks for the Dumbledore advice.  Thanks!

**Princess:**  ^_^  You'll see.  Thanks!

**Illusoire:**  Thanks!

**Sirius Black:**  Thanks!!!  I will.

**Saria:**  Thank you very much. *blushes with pride*

**Trisana:**  Thanks!

***Jay*:**  Nope, not the same. ^_^  And I can't very well tell you the answer to your second question, now can I?  Thanks!

**sweets:**  lol  Thanks!

**Liliana-Suger:**  Thanks!  I think I hadn't found time to read some of your work, so that's why I hadn't emailed you back.  Now that it's summer, though, I will!

            Anybody hear the audio for the Chamber of Secrets yet?  It rocks, I'll just tell you that. ^_^  I can't wait to see it in theaters!

            Well, thank you all and be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	15. The Meeting

Dedication:  This chapter is dedicated to Mélody Potron, whose kind email inspired me to hurry up and finish this dang chapter. ^_^

Chapter 15:  The Meeting

            Harry woke up that Sunday, and decided right away to go back to sleep.  Yet something gnawed uncomfortably inside him, as though he really should get up.  For a while, he lied on his stomach, his chin in his pillow, staring at the wall and trying to remember whatever it was he was supposed to do.

            A cool breeze came in through an open window, rustling his bed curtains.  A sliver of sunlight flashed in his eyes, causing him to look over.  As the curtains swayed with the wind, the opening between them came and disappeared, and he watched the sun peeping in on him.  It was very bright; it must be late.  Late.  He was late…for the meeting!

            The peacefulness of lying in bed was quickly shattered.  Harry tore open the curtains, scrambling out of bed.  As he rushed to get dressed, he glanced out the window.  The sun was high; it had to be climbing near noon, and he was supposed to be there at eleven.  Silently cursing himself, he pulled on his robes and glanced in the mirror.  The image looking back wasn't that encouraging, but he just pulled a hand through his mussed mane and ran out the door.

            After quickly shaking off an eager Dennis Creevey, who had recently taken up his older brother's favorite hobby, and then practically plowing through a congregation of third year girls in the middle of the corridor, he reached Dumbledore's office, and outside stood Azar, James, and Draco.  If he thought such a sight would be comforting, however, he was wrong.  Draco was leaning against the wall, wand in hand and lazily levitating a small stone.  He was wearing his dress robes, and his hair looked slicked back flatter than usual.  Harry didn't even want to think what he looked like in comparison.  Azar and James were nearby, Azar apparently explaining something that had to do with escaping a choke hold.  Azar looked great, though Harry could never imagine her looking anything but.  Even James seemed to have taken great care with his appearances that morning, though he looked more like a nervous choirboy than the grown professionals that Azar and Draco did.  The three looked up as Harry arrived, panting heavily.

            "About time, Harry," Draco said, standing up straight and letting his stone fall, "We were about to give up on you and declare Longbottom Gryffindor's heir."

            "Funny," Harry replied, still trying to catch his breath.

            "Here," Azar said, standing him up straight.

            She took his tie, loosening it and tossing the tail over his shoulder, then rapidly mussed his hair, his sweat causing it to stand up.

            "There," she smiled, "That's the Harry I know."

            "Ah, come off it," he grinned, righting his tie and hair, "I slept in, okay?"

            "So that's what's been holding you all up."

            They turned to find Sirius, standing in the gargoyle's doorway.  "I was beginning to think you'd all forgotten."

            "No, just waiting for the Flobberworm here," Draco said, jerking a thumb at Harry.

            "Hey, I resent that!" Harry cried.

            "Yeah!" Azar chimed in, "Harry is clearly longer than ten inches."

            "Thanks for the backup, Azar."

            "Anytime."

            Sirius grinned, shaking his head.  "Well, if that's over with, you should probably come up now.  We want to begin."

            The five of them headed through the gargoyle's door and onto the moving staircase.  Harry felt something quivering near his arm, and found that it was James.  Reassuringly, he put a hand on the boy's shoulder.  They got to the top of the stairs and walked through the door to Dumbledore's office.  Even Azar was a little taken aback with what they saw.  The small office was, putting it mildly, extremely crowded.  Every chair was taken, every space filled; walking around was a feat all its own.

            Harry began examining faces, trying to discern those he knew.  There was Remus, of course, who'd just walked over to them and was speaking with Sirius; Dumbledore; Connerly; Arabella Figg; Juniata Snape; and Mr. Weasley.  There was also a woman with dark hair who looked very much like she could be the mother of Bella Arroz, one of Gryffindor's Chasers.  Everyone else was completely new to Harry.

            "Well would you look at this lot!" a voice boomed suddenly, laughing.  The origin was a tall man, about fifty years of age.  He had short, scruffy sandy-colored hair, speckled with gray, and a mustache to match.  A large nose took up a considerable part of his round, ruddy face and his small, dark eyes seemed almost swallowed up by crowfeet, placed there permanently by more than his fair share of laughing.  With a grunt, he pulled his far from petite build out of an armchair and walked towards the four students.

            "Bringing 'em in a bit young now, eh Albus?" he chuckled, nudging the headmaster jovially, "Not even graduated."

            Sirius stepped forward, his eyes far from sharing the man's smile.  "These happen to be the Hogwarts' Heirs, Mundungus," he said stiffly, "my godson, Harry Potter, among them."

            "Ah, yes, Harry Potter," Mundungus said, glancing at the boy's forehead, "I figured he'd worm his way in somehow someday.  Always does, eh Harry?"

            The man again gave that booming laugh, clapping Harry roughly on the back.  Though he acted jovial and lighthearted, there was a certain edge to the man's voice that reminded Harry strongly of Snape.  He knew right then that he didn't like the man, and had a feeling that the sentiment was mutual.

            "Harry, may I introduce Mundungus Fletcher," Dumbledore said, indicating the burly man with a slight smile, "I see you know of Harry, Mundungus.  This is Azar Zundel, Draco Malfoy, and James Bell."

            "Malfoy?" Fletcher said, raising an eyebrow, "Lucius' son?"

            "Yes," Draco said, standing up straighter and slitting his eyes, "You have a problem with that?"  Harry could tell the boy felt the same way about Fletcher as he did.

            "No, nope, no," the man answered, conviction lacking in each denial.

            Fletcher looked Draco up and down thoughtfully, not even attempting to hide the fact that he was suspicious of the boy and probably anyone who held the name of Malfoy.  He kept his mouth shut, however, deciding there were better objects to poke fun at.

            "Well, Mr. Bell," he said, turning towards James and crinkling up his eyes once more, "looks like you were dealt the short straw, pun most definitely intended."  Again that booming laugh came, an occurrence so common that it was already becoming an annoyance in Harry's mind.  "You are younger than the others?  What year?"

            James went red, far from ready to speak to someone with such a commanding presence.  "S-second," he whispered.

            For some reason, Fletcher seemed to find this hilarious.  "That is young!  I thought seventh year was early, Albus, but that's just recruiting them from the crib!  I'll bet you feel out of your league, right lad?"

            James blushed even deeper, suddenly finding his feet extremely interesting.

            "Actually," Azar said firmly, stepping up to Fletcher, "James is quite a good wizard, for any age.  He's also kind and strong.  I'd say he's right on the level with everyone here.  Above some even."

            Fletcher looked her up and down in the same scrutinizing manner he had Draco.  "No need to get your bloomers in a bunch, lass," he said, a distinct tone of dislike in his voice, "I was just asking how he felt, not stating a fact.  You probably feel out of your league, too."

            Azar narrowed her eyes suspiciously.  "And what is that supposed to mean?"

            "Simply that someone of your…stature would feel out-of-place among these three, who seem a bit more aptly fitted to their positions."

            "Well, I assure you, I feel very comfortable here.  I happen to be the top student in my year," she said with dislike, clouds coming to her eyes, "And if you think that—"

            "You know, there are some people," Fletcher interrupted, looking at Azar as though she was five years old, "that are better in sight than sound."

            Azar's face flared in an anger unlike any Harry had ever seen before.  Fletcher, however, seemed merely amused at this, almost willing her to say something so he could counter it.  Remus, however, tactfully intervened.

            "You know, Mundungus, I've been wondering: how do you keep those prisoners without Dementors?" he said, quickly steering the man to the opposite side of the room.

            Sirius shook his head, then got in a conversation with Dumbledore, walking away.  Azar stared after the formers, her furious eyes never leaving Fletcher's retreating figure.

            "Harry, take my wand from me," Azar said through gritted teeth.

            "What?  Why?" he asked.  He hadn't even realized she'd pulled it from her robes.

            "Take the wand away from me," she repeated tensely, "before I blast that man into the Atlantic."

            Harry didn't need to be told a third time.  "I'm sure he meant nothing, just another joke," he assured her, after securing the wand, "I mean, a friend of Dumbledore's wouldn't say anything to demean muggleborns."

            "Oh, he meant it," Azar scoffed, "but he wasn't talking about my being muggleborn, though I wouldn't put it under the scum-sucking water rat.  Anyone of my 'stature' would know what he meant."

            Harry went wide-eyed, glancing at Draco for help.

            "Women, Harry," he said matter-of-factly, "Fletcher was saying that because Azar is a woman, she is inferior.  My father was the same way."

            "Don't say that, Draco, or I might start hating you because of your father," Azar said stiffly, still staring daggers at Fletcher.

            "Join the party," Draco said with more than a note of bitterness, following Azar's gaze.

            "Your attention please!" Dumbledore suddenly called over the chatter.  Everyone quickly fell silent.  "Thank you," he continued in his placid way, "As it seems everyone has arrived, I think it best we begin.  Remus?"

            Remus stepped forward, pulling out a piece of parchment and adjusting his reading glasses.  "Yes, well," he started, clearing his throat, "Sadly, the Brocklehurst home was targeted this week."

            A series of distressed murmurs rippled through the group, all eyes turning to one woman in the room.  A couple people patted her on the back as she stood resolute.

            "Thankfully, we had already evacuated the family and no one was hurt.  This is due in a large part to the information given to us by our insider," Remus said, indicating a figure leaning against the wall.

            Harry looked over at the man, a little unsettled.  The figure was wearing a black cloak, the hood completely hiding his features.  He wondered why Remus called him 'our insider' instead of saying his name.

            "The whole family is now in hiding-"

            "Not quite all of us," the woman spoke up.

            Remus smiled slightly.  "No, Miranda is still out and about.  The better for us, naturally."

            "Too right!" Miranda exclaimed.

            Any worry or distress remaining faded from the group of people, everyone smiling or chuckling.

            "Well, on that note, any more news for us?" Remus asked, turning to the dark figure.

            "Nothing specific, though he seems to be planning something," said a voice that Harry could swear he knew, "He is getting a bit suspicious; with all his planned victims disappearing, I mean."

            "Of you?" Dumbledore asked firmly.

            "No, not of any one person thankfully," he went on, "Just overall.  I'll keep my eyes and ears open, as always."

            Remus nodded.  Harry stared at the figure; where did he know him from?

            "Well then, Sirius, how are talks with France going?" Remus continued.

            "Swimmingly," Sirius said calmly, "Madam Maxime has been invaluable, and so has one of her former students, Fleur Delacour.  She seems to have a special affinity for England, and knows people in high places.  She's also very good with persuasion, making some hang on her every word."

            Harry laughed to himself, wondering if Sirius knew the half of it.

            "How about you, Maria?" Remus went on, turning to the woman with dark hair Harry had noticed before, "Is Spain coming around?"

            "Not really," she sighed, "At least they're not even considering Voldemort's side.  They're just so cautious.  I'm beginning to think you gave me this assignment as a punishment."

            "No, I would have asked you to talk with Switzerland if I wanted to punish you."

            Maria just smiled, shaking her head.

            "How about Germany?" he asked, turning to another person.

            "Just need the paperwork."

            "Good.  Italy?"

            "Behind us all the way!"

            Remus smiled.  "Excellent.  Those are all the European ministries in question, correct?"

            Dumbledore nodded.

            "Well then, that's all the unfinished business from the last meeting," Remus said, stepping down.

            "Mundungus, any news from the captives?" Dumbledore asked, turning to Fletcher.

            "No, they've closed up pretty tight," he replied, "Or run out of information to give.  We'll see."

            Dumbledore nodded solemnly.  "On to new business then.  During this past week, I informed the four Heirs of their birthright, and so they are here today."

            He indicated where the four friends stood, every eye in the room turning towards them.  Harry felt his face getting a bit hot.  James had gone stiff.  The four slowly stepped forward, James with a bit of help from Azar, and faced the crowd.

            "May I introduce," Dumbledore continued, "Harry Potter of Gryffindor, Azar Zundel of Ravenclaw, James Bell of Hufflepuff, and Draco Malfoy of Slytherin."

            The whole room filled with silence, in awe, unsure.  Then Sirius and Remus began to applaud.  The noise gradually spread through the room, until every single person was clapping.  Harry felt the nervousness drain right out of him.

            "Yes, yes, yes," Dumbledore eventually intervened, holding up a hand for silence, "We all know their importance in times like these.  At the moment, however, they still have much to learn.  And much to teach."  The Headmaster's eyes sparked with enjoyment at his private joke.  "I ask all of you to help them when they ask, to guide them with your wisdom, but also not to underestimate them.  Before us we have four young people who could possible hold the power to make all of this worthwhile; so that none of us have fought in vain."

            Harry looked slowly around the silent room.  Everyone seemed to be standing taller, their faces set with determination.  He felt the nervousness gnawing at his stomach again, but this time it was different.  There was something in the way Dumbledore spoke that made him straighten his back.  He was frightened, yes, but that didn't matter.  He had a job that had to be done, and that made all the difference in the world.  Harry realized then why Dumbledore was stronger than Voldemort, and not just magically.  Voldemort used fear and pain to create an army of followers.  Dumbledore used words that inspired strength and determination.  Inspiration was a more determined fighter than terror.

            "Well," Dumbledore spoke up again, drawing everyone from their thoughts, "I do believe that is all.  Be sure to receive your assignments from Remus before you leave.  Oh, and a reminder, it is the Shrieking Shack.  It seems some simply said 'the Shack' last meeting and ended up in the fireplace of some poor hermit wizard, so do try to avoid that.  Thank you."

            With that, talk slowly grew in the room, many people standing, a few heading over to speak with Remus.  Harry began looking around again, trying to recognize faces.  On the far side of the room, where he hadn't moved from, stood the figure with the dark cloak.  Harry knew he recognized the voice from somewhere, and was determined to find out who the wizard was.  Leaving Draco and Azar chatting pleasantly, he walked towards the man, moving around the groups of people.  The closer he got, the more he tried to see under that dark hood and find a face, but it seemed fruitless.  In fact, he realized as he was nearly right next to the man, it was no normal hood.  It was almost as if a black veil had been draped over the man's face.  Before Harry had much of a chance to wonder about this, however, the figure turned to him.

            "Oh, hello Harry," the man said cheerily.

            Harry stared at him, or rather that dark expanse where the face should be, and tried to place the voice.  It sounded so familiar, especially the jovial greeting.

            "Lee?" he said, unsure.

            "Who did you think?" the figure laughed, "I haven't really cha— Oh, yeah, sorry, forgot about that."

            The figure glanced around, making sure his back was to the full room.  He reached a leather-gloved hand up to his hood, and suddenly the darkness was gone, revealing a face that, though changed, was definitely that of Lee Jordan.

            "Lee!  What are you doing here?" Harry asked, surprised to see the boy that used to seem like the third Weasley twin.

            "Sh, not so loud," Lee hushed, "My identity's something of a secret, even among resistance members.  Just a caution, you know, but a good one."

            Harry furrowed his brow slightly.  "Caution?  For what?"

            "Harry, what're you-" Azar said, coming over and then seeing who he was talking to, "Lee Jor—!"

            Lee promptly clapped a hand over her mouth.  "Blimey, what is with you people?" he said, exasperated, "Is yelling out a person's name when you see him the newest fad or what?"

            "I was just surprised to see you, that's all," Azar said as an apology.

            "Well, I'm trying to keep a low profile—"

            Azar laughed.  "You?  Keeping a low profile?"

            "Unbelievable, isn't it?" Lee grinned, "The world is surely coming to an end."

            "Apparently," Azar replied, "You cut your dreads off."

            "Yeah," he said, touching his now shortly cropped hair wistfully, "I sort of had to.  Voldemort doesn't like his followers looking 'different'."

            "Voldemort's followers?"

            "Relax, Harry," Azar assured him, "He's a spy for the resistance.  Right, Lee?"

            Lee nodded.  "Been so for awhile now.  Seemed the only thing I could do to help."

            Harry glanced at him, feeling a bit awkward.  "So do you have…well, you know," he said, slightly indicating his left arm.

            Lee pulled back the sleeve of his left forearm.  There, a dark etching on the light brown of his underarm, was a tattoo of the Dark Mark.

            "Oh, Lee," Azar sighed, looking at him sadly.

            He shrugged.  "It's worth it, though.  I'm actually saving people's lives.  There's nothing greater than that."

            "How exactly-" Harry began to ask.

            "Ah, curtain time," Lee said suddenly, touching the inside of his hood again and causing the black shade to hide his face once more.

            Before Harry could even ask why, Draco came up to them.

            "Er, hello," he said, glancing at Lee a little warily.

            "Hey Draco," Harry said, "We were just talking with Lee-"

            Azar promptly jabbed him in the side with her elbow, but too late.  Lee drooped his head, holding it in his hand.

            "Great, just great," he sighed, "I hesitated, but nooo.  I can trust Harry, I thought.  Harry won't tell anyone, I thought.  And then you go and tell the bloody Heir of Slytherin."

            "Sorry, it just came out," Harry quickly apologized, "But he probably doesn't even remember you, do you, Draco?"

            "That jackass Quidditch commentator who graduated a few years ago?" Draco said, clearly not pleased with how he entered the conversation, "Of course I remember him."

            "But he doesn't even know about your job, do you, Draco?" Harry insisted.

            "What, that he's a spy?"

            Harry was feeling more and more rushed to justify himself to Lee.  "But he won't tell, will you, Draco?"

            Draco's eyes narrowed slightly.  "Why is it everyone finds it necessary to make sure I won't give away secrets?  I thought I was trustworthy by now."

            "Of course you are," Azar said firmly, "You should know better, Harry.  Draco would never endanger someone in the resistance."

            "I wasn't even suggesting—"  Harry sighed.  "Oh, I give up.  Lee, don't worry, he won't tell."

            Lee glanced at Harry and Azar, then looked back at Draco suspiciously.  "It's Draco Malfoy, isn't it?"

            Draco didn't even bother to mask his anger.  "Yes, it is, though that name is about the only thing I inherited from my father."

            Lee shrugged.  "Why should I care who your father is?  All I know is that the last time I was at Hogwarts, you and Harry were mortal enemies."

            Draco's look softened, but not by much.  "How do you know we're not anymore?"

            Lee put a hand on his hip.  "Well, you sure don't look it."

            "Things aren't always what they seem.  You should know that," Draco said, folding his arms, "Someone who smiles and laughs good-naturedly might someday plunge a dagger in your back, while someone who stares at you with ultimate loathing could save your life.  Looking past intentions and presumptions is the only way to judge people.  You must not be much of a spy if you can't do that."

            Lee was silent a moment.  Harry wished he could see his face, wondering what effect Draco had made.  Suddenly, Lee chuckled light-heartedly.  "You," he said, pointing absentmindedly at Draco, "are one strange kid."

            "I'm no 'kid'," Draco replied evocatively, "I'm out in the open, face-to-face.  I'd think a child would be more likely to hide behind a dark veil."

            Lee laughed again.  "I'd love to refute that, mate, but I must be off.  Duty calls, you know."  He started towards the fireplace, the room now almost empty.  " 'Bye, Harry.  Farewell, my fair Azar."

            "And to you, my brave Pimpernel," Azar smiled.

            Once Lee was out of earshot, Harry nudged Draco.  "What was that all about?"

            Draco shrugged.  "I felt like pushing a few buttons, since everyone seems to insist on pushing mine."

            "I didn't know you had any buttons," Azar said, looking him up and down.

            "None that I like to show," he replied, "And I was speaking metaphorically, so don't say anything smart."

            "Speaking of which," Harry interrupted, "I have a Potions essay to finish for tomorrow.  Care to take our exit?"

            "Gladly."

            "Sure.  Now where did James…oh no," Azar moaned, having spotted James talking to Fletcher.  Or rather Fletcher talking to James.  "Well, I guess we'd better rescue him."

            "Why does he seem to insist on making James nervous?" Harry sighed.

            "He likes to belittle people," Draco replied simply.

            Azar shook her head in disgust.  "Yeah, probably to make himself feel big."

            "He looks plenty big to me," Draco snorted.

            "Doesn't mean he's big in other places," Azar said innocently, walking off.

            "Ugh, Azar, no mental pictures, please," Harry groaned.

            "I can't imagine what you mean.  Where is your mind, Mr. Potter?"  Then she turned to the approaching figures.  "Oh there you are, James!  We lost you in all this mess.  Sorry to rid you of a conversation buddy, Mr. Fletcher, but we really must be off.  Schoolwork, you know."

            She took James' hand, as if to tell Fletcher they were leaving that instant.  He didn't take the hint, however.

            "Can't imagine why a pretty little thing like you would worry her fluffy head about things like schoolwork," he chuckled.

            James gave a small, strangled cry, and Harry quickly released him from Azar's suddenly tightening grip.  He stepped in front of her to talk to Fletcher himself.

            "Actually, Azar does very little worrying over schoolwork, for it comes so easy to her.  It's the rest of us that need to get to work.  And we also wouldn't want to take up any of your time."

            "Ah, yes," Fletcher grunted importantly, "Well, just let me give you some advice:  Don't let this whole Heir business swell your heads and stop you from doing real work.  Of course, just ask Harry on this.  I'm sure he's had plenty of experience on keeping down a swelled head."

            Fletcher gave his booming laugh, slapping Harry on the back, then turned and headed for the fireplace.

            "I don't like that man, and I don't think he likes me either," Harry said, glancing at Fletcher's turned back, then heading out of the office, "He doesn't show it, but I can just feel it."

            "As my father once told me, it is not prudent to appear less than fond of Harry Potter," Draco said, wearing a small smile.

            Harry grinned back.  "To think he was once giving that advice to keep you from badmouthing me," he replied with a something of a laugh.

            Draco raised an eyebrow.  "How do you know?"

            "I never told you?  I was there."

            "What?  Where?"

            "Knockturn Alley, before our second year.  In a cupboard."

            Draco looked amused.  "You'd be dead right now if my father had found you."

            "Don't I know it," Harry laughed.

            "What were you doing in a cupboard, anyways?"

            "I was just about to ask the same thing," Azar said, smiling.

            "Hiding from Draco, actually."

            Azar clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, shaking her head slightly.  "The things you boys used to get into.  I wonder how you ever got on without me."

            "Quite well, actually," Harry smiled.

            Azar gave him a poorly faked perturbed look, replying simply, "Before your second year, you say?  Wasn't that the year you were attacked by a killer diary?"

            James and Draco stared at Harry, Draco looking as if he was trying to determine whether or not it was a joke.

            Harry shrugged, trying to hold back a laugh.  "I guess you could call it that."

            "Honestly, you'd think I'd know more about what happens in my own school," Draco said, shaking his head, "So what happened?  Go poking your nose in where it didn't belong?  Someone have a biting charm on their diary?"

            "Remind me to tell you the whole story some time," Harry replied, "I'm surprised someone who had such interest in the whole thing doesn't even know what happened."

            "Well we can't all be the school favorite," Draco grinned, not without a hint of bitterness.

            "Correction," Harry said, holding up a finger, "Most people fit into one of three categories:  admiration, brown-nosing, or wanting more than anything to shove their wand up my…" He glanced at James.  "Well, where Lumos'll do no good."

            "Ooh, I pick number three," Azar said enthusiastically.

            "Tell her what she's won, Johnny!" Draco exclaimed in a voice remnant of a game show host.  Or Gilderoy Lockhart.

            "You two get along far too well," Harry said with a raised eyebrow.

            "Yes, well James and I must be off," Azar announced, taking James by the wrist, "He's got this Gryffindor prat bugging him, so I'm going to show him a few moves."

            James glanced at the two boys with wide eyes as she led him off.

            "Sorry, you're on your own with this one, Jimmy!" Draco called, laughing.

            "It's nice to see you in such a good mood," Harry commented as they headed off.

            "Don't worry, it won't last long," Draco grinned.

            "You did have me a bit worried there, after…well, you know."

            "Oh, Fletcher," Draco said, shrugging it off, "He's just a pompous arse.  I can live with that."

            "No I mean, before today… after your mum…"

            Draco turned sharply towards him, his eyes in slits.  "My mother did not commit suicide," he said tersely.

            Harry knit his brow, confused.  "But…Draco, the—"

            "My father still has a lot of power over the system.  He can print his lies," Draco spat out angrily, "She was nothing but a weakness to him, a failure.  She failed to keep me within the Dark Lord's alliance, and so she was useless to him.  My father could have any whim followed through."

            Draco turned away, walking off quickly, but that didn't matter.  Harry concentrated solely on what was on the boy's mind, what he felt.  It was as though he'd been plunged into an icy sea, enveloped by utter darkness.  A flaming heat boiled in the depths of his being while his throat seized up and his heart felt as though it was slowly being crushed.

            Harry stumbled slightly, steadying himself against the wall.  It was too much to take all at once, the hate and pain and fear all tumbling into one.  Worst of all, though he couldn't see the images that he knew were flying through Draco's mind, he knew their effects, and felt sick to his stomach.

****

            Remus Lupin walked along the nearly abandoned streets of Hogsmeade, watching his feet as he went.  Everyone else had disapparated home right after using floo powder to arrive at the Shrieking Shack, but for some reason Remus had turned to the town instead.  He hadn't been in Hogsmeade much since he left Hogwarts.  Yet now that he was walking its streets once again, his mind rested solely on his thoughts.

            Even within the resistance, with people that he'd become quite good friends with, he felt that awkwardness.  It always seemed to remain with him.  He never thought it fair that he had to go through this pain along with the physical.

            Not on his own accord, just following his feet, he came upon a bench occupied already by one person:  Juniata Snape.  He was surprised to see her in any case, but realized that she, like himself, was just looking for a place to be alone.  However, he sat down beside her.  It was always comforting to be alone along with someone else.

            Neither of them spoke, just staring off into their thoughts.  Juniata sat straight and stiff, as though she had never heard of comfort.  Remus was slumped over slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.  Each, however, stared at the ground.  The sunlight was slowly fading, Hogsmeade becoming a place of various shades of gray.  Suddenly, as though already in the middle of a conversation, Juniata spoke up.

            "It's hell.  It really is," she muttered, staring off at nothing.

            "Worst than it even," Remus sighed, resting his chin on his hands.  Somehow it felt as though they'd already been talking for ages, and this was just where the conversation led.

            "Always finding the other way to do it," she went on.

            "Doing everything on schedule or paying the price."

            "That uncomfortable silence when others find out."

            "Those fearful sideways glances."

            "The sniggers behind your back."

            "People crossing the street to avoid you."

            "It's horrible."

            "Frightening."

            "Infuriating."

            "Sad…"

            "Sometimes I just feel like such a…" Juniata grasped for a word.

            "A freak," Remus sighed.

            They looked at each other, smiling slightly.

            "It's nice to see you again, Juni," Remus said, sitting up and reaching out his hand.

            "Pleasure to see you, too," she said, shaking his hand, "though it never was before."

            "Oh…  I'm sorry we were so awful to you back then."

            "Ah well…kids do those kind of things," she shrugged.

            "No, there's no excuse for it," he insisted, "I can't believe I ever did that.  I mean, me, of all people… Talk about throwing stones in glass houses."

            "Come to think of it, I don't think you did any of the 'stone throwing'."

            "No, but I didn't stop it either, and that's just as bad.  If not worse."

            She smiled slightly, looking at the ground then back up at him.  "Who was that one that was the worse?" she quickly said, as though shaking something off, "The one always wearing a leather jacket and know-it-all grin."

            "That would be Sirius," he said with a laugh.

            "He was relentless."

            "Oh, it wasn't personal," Remus reassured her, "Sirius was just transferring his loathing for Severus to you.  Sirius is that kind of person:  When he likes you, he'll die for you; when he hates you…"

            "Watch out," Juniata offered with a grin.

            "Exactly," Remus nodded, smiling.

            "Severus is the same way.  Well, was.  Or at least I thought he was."  She sighed, shaking her head.  "I'm not sure if I ever really knew him."

            "I wish I had even tried to know him," Remus said wistfully, "Sometimes I look back and wonder if things would be different if I had simply reached out a hand.  Severus wasn't our enemy from the start.  He probably could have been a good friend, in fact.  I'm not even sure why we started hating him."

            "Who knows why anyone hates someone.  Who knows why they love them.  Your greatest enemy could have been your greatest friend if you met a week later," Juniata mused, "Everything happens for a reason, though.  You may wish things had been different, but if you saw the outcome, you wouldn't like it one bit."

            "Ah, but there's one thing I know I would change if I could," Remus said, giving a half-hearted laugh.

            "Would you?" Juniata asked, looking straight into his eyes, "Think of all that happened because of that one event.  The world would change so drastically without it.  Would that be worth losing?"

            Remus stared at her, almost in awe.  "You make a lot of sense, Juniata.  I just wish I had the brains to have seen it all those years ago."

            "We all wish we did things differently when we were younger.  And call me Juni," she said in a voice friendlier than she had used in years, "Long names always bothered me."

            Remus smiled, looking back at the town now doused in darkness.  His gaze turned upwards, past the dark leaves above them and to the black and blue expanse of sky.

            "The stars are bright tonight," he commented quietly.

            Juniata looked up also, gazing at the array of diamonds.  "They always are.  It's just hard to see it sometimes."

            Remus glanced back at her, but her eyes were fixed upwards.  He looked back up.  "I'm glad I can see them now."

            "It's nice to be in a town with no electric lights to dim them," she mused, her eyes traveling upon the Milky Way, "Those muggles don't know what they're missing."

            Remus smiled slightly, but didn't withdraw his gaze.  And so they sat there in the moonlight in silence, their eyes fixed upon the world above.

~*~*~

A/N:  I considered titling this "The Chapter that Took Forever", but decided against it. ^_^  I know, I know, I'm sorry!!!  Allow me to make excuses:  I was gone for 2 weeks at a writing camp (and no, no time then; I had other assignments to write), and came back for a few days then headed off to girls' camp for 4 days.  I got back yesterday.  Scold me all you want, go ahead, but it is a longer chapter than normal, so I hope that makes up for it. ^-^

            And just so I won't get a million reviews commenting on this, that last scene w/ Juniata and Remus was NOT romantic. ^_^  Mutual understanding, yes; friendship, possibly; romance, no.  Not yet, at least. (Hey, never say never, right? ^_^)

            Well, thank you everyone who stuck with me, and all those who read and reviewed the last chapter!

**yerbroham:**  Ah, yes, very…interesting…chapter that was.  *sigh*  Oh, well first, I don't think Lily was a Marauder.  Goodness, the idea of her doing that to poor Juni is just not right at all. ^_^  Personally, I can see James taking a few potshots at her for Snape's sake, and Sirius definitely so.  As I tried to sneak in this chapter (~_^) I believe that whether he likes you or hates you, Sirius feels VERY strongly about his opinion.  Yes he helped Peter, but that was because he liked him.  And Peter himself…well, if Sirius or James were doing it, of course he would.  Follow the big boys, that was his motto, the rat.  Ah, yes, the typo.  I fixed that the instant it was pointed out to me, but that doesn't stop some of my friends bringing up "Sirius Snape". ^_^  And I can promise a Voldy sighting by Halloween. ^_^  Well, in the fic.  Probably before then in our time. ^_^  Thanks!

**summersun:**  ^_^  Ah, depends on who she's forgiving.  And yes, the Ron/Percy talk will be very important in subsequent chapters. ^_^  Thanks!

**Naralina:**  Sirius, Severus, same difference. ^_^  Nope, sorry, no flashback.  Talks about the past, possibly, but I try to steer clear of all out flashbacking.  Yeah, there was an innocence in it all, wasn't there?  Ah well.  Innocence now… *bwa-ha-ha*  Thanks!

**Colibi:**  Thanks!

**Tarawen:**  Yeah, I agree in many ways.  So often fanficers stick Snape in a huge manor, making his past very much like Draco's.  I just don't see him that way.  That's why I made him poor, to explain things.  I mean, I couldn't figure out why this man would become a Death Eater.  He must have felt powerless much of his life, and the idea of power was just too much for him.  And of course now he knows it was a mistake, and I'm sure it must pain him very much.  Oh, I SO agree!  Sirius and Snape seem so much alike!  I think, in a way, that is part of the root of their hatred for each other.  One thing, though, I DO think that Draco is abused.  Not necessarily physically, but definitely emotionally.  Whee, that was fun!  It's been so long since I've had a HP char. talk. ^_^  Thanks!

**abbey:**  Wow, thanks. ^_^  lol

**jona:**  ^_^  Yes, tangled pasts are the bee's knees. ^_^  Thanks!

**chrestomanci:**  Thanks!

**Alec Kazaam:**  Mysteries are fun.  Especially when you're not sure what's going to happen next.  Not so much when you're the author, though. ^_^  Thanks, RLB! *teehee*

**sweets:**  ^_^ lol  And yes, your fic is on my list of 1 million and 7 fanfics I have to read this summer. ^_^  *sigh*  Too bad summer isn't longer.   ^_^  Thanks.

**Trisana:**  Ooh, and this was an even longer wait. *winces*  I really need to get writing more.  ^_^  Explanations pending.  Thanks!

**Princess:**  Mmm…yes, we kinda find out what Azar's prophecy was, but only after it comes true. *bwa-ha-ha*  Sorry, but can't reveal anymore.  And Ron and Percy are up to very important business.  Very, VERY important business. ^_^  Thanks!

**Beci:**  ^_^  Thank you!  Wow, all those fluffy good feelings.  Even better than Butterbeer. ^_^  Thanks!

**Mrs. Grim:**  lol  Thanks!  Nope, never got a Prom date. *sigh*  But know what?  I've promised myself that I'll go to all girls' choice dances next year!  And I will!  *hopefully* ^_^

**Gina Starr:**  Thanks! ^_^ lol  And I can promise at least one more Azar/Harry fight and make-up. ^_^

***Jay*:**  *grins*  Thanks.  I was kinda proud of that scene, too.  Yes, Ron and Percy, I hadn't mentioned it before.  They're planning some things. (Though Ron doesn't know their importance (neither does Percy, but he will).)  ^_^  I know, I know, I've left poor Hermione hanging, but we'll get back to her. ^_^  Thanks!

*dances*  I FINALLY GOT THIS CHAPTER UP!!!  WAAAA-HOOOOOOO!!!  And of course it being 1 am has nothing at all to do with my strange mood. ^_^  Though you'd think I'd be all urg-y because I'm fried. (That song, "Soak Up the Sun"?  Er, no, don't follow that advice. ^_^)

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	16. Lessons

Chapter 16:  Lessons (Clever, eh?)

            Harry and Azar sat in the library the next day, researching for a Defense Against the Dark Arts parchment.  Harry, however, didn't see a word of what he was reading.  He couldn't stop thinking about what Draco had said.

            "Did you know Draco thinks his mum didn't commit suicide?" Harry asked, the question having rolled around in his head so much that it simply tumbled out.

            "Yes," Azar sighed, looking sullenly at the table in front of her, "And frankly, I think he's right."

            "You knew?  Why didn't you tell me?"

            "I knew when Draco wanted to tell you, he would.  And if he didn't, then there was probably a reason."

            "He always seems to confide in you..."

            Azar gave him a slightly irritated look.  "Don't tell me you're on that again."

            "What?  No.  Of course not," Harry said defensively, "I was just wondering aloud, that's all."

            "We talk," Azar replied simply, "You should always talk to people."

            Harry smiled slightly.  "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

            "Do."

            Hermione walked in then, sitting besides them.  "Hello."

            Harry and Azar both greeted her warmly, but after that was silence.  Hermione looked at each of them, a little curiously.

            "Where were you two yesterday?" she asked.

            Harry avoided her eyes.  "Oh, nowhere really."

            Hermione laughed forcibly.  "Well, you had to have been somewhere."

            "Just here and there," Azar said, feeling a bit awkward.

            Hermione was silent now, sullenly so even.  And then she suddenly stood up, saying, "Okay then."

            Although he wasn't sure, Harry thought he heard her mutter, "Just what I feared."

            Harry turned to Azar, raising his eyebrow.  She returned the look.

            "Do you think she suspects something?" he asked.

            "You mean do I think she suspects that we are Heirs and were at a meeting concerning the resistance and will soon be training to lead Voldemort to his downfall?  Somehow I doubt it," Azar grinned.

            Harry smiled slightly.  "I guess I'll take your word for it."

****

            "Why are we wasting our time with an old woman?" Draco muttered.

            "Thin ice, Draco," Azar said warningly opening the Entrance Hall door to let him, Harry, and James through.

            "Jumping to conclusions, Azar," he shot back, "You let Fletcher get to you.  I was simply meaning that a person of her age probably knows little we can use.  Senility gets in the way."

            "Would you call Dumbledore senile?" Harry asked.

            Draco looked a bit uncomfortable.  "Well...no.  But he's a special case."

            "Jumping to conclusions, Draco," James piped up.

            The older three stopped, staring at him.  James blushed, looking at his feet.

            "Sorry," he said quietly.

            Azar burst out laughing.  "No, no, don't be.  Just a bit surprising, that's all."

            "Poor lad, we're rubbing off on him," Draco lamented jokingly.

            James grinned sheepishly, very pleased.

            The four Heirs headed along the grounds of Hogwarts, towards the Quidditch pitch.  Each had received an owl the day before, informing them to meet there that night, to receive a defense lesson from Arabella Figg.  Needless to say, Draco was skeptical.

            A full moon was up tonight, round and silver, creating a surreal day.  The air seemed almost as if made of ice, cold weather having swooped upon Hogwarts those past few days, and it caused the Heirs to hold tightly to their cloaks.  The six Quidditch hoops cast ominous shadows, glimmering pretentiously.  As they finally entered the stadium, they found the field empty.

            "Told you she's senile," Draco said, clearly in want of sleep, "She forgot."

            "I don't know about being senile, Draco," came a voice from behind them, "but my hearing is as good as ever."

            They spun around to find Arabella Figg sitting complacently in the stands.  With some effort, she got to her feet, walking towards them.  She stood up, straighter and taller than seemed natural for her apparent age.  She was smiling slightly, confidently, and her eyes held a power that made her quite intimidating, despite her musty violet cloak and hood lined with limp ostrich feathers.

            "So," she said simply, "here stand the Four upon which the whole fate of the world may rest."

            "And to think I was nervous about this whole thing!" Draco exclaimed sarcastically.

            "You think yourself quite the comedian, Draco," she said, folding her arms, "but we shall see if you're still laughing when this night is through."

            Draco didn't say anything, though James gulped audibly.

            "Well," Arabella continued promptly, withdrawing her wand, "the first thing is to test your wand skills in a duel.  Since you seem so eager, Draco, you're first."

            Draco glanced at the other three, then back at Arabella.  "Wait, you mean I'm supposed to duel you?"

            She nodded.

            Piercing the cold silence, Draco roared with laughter.  "You?!  Now that's a challenge!"

            Arabella simply smiled.  "I suggest you get ready, Draco."

            Harry, Azar, and James retreated to the stands, and Draco, sneering smugly, pulled out his wand.  He and Arabella held their wands before them, bowing.  Before Draco could even think of a way to start, Arabella relieved him of that duty.  He was really laughing this time, but Harry knew that it wasn't because he wanted to.  He smiled to himself, because he'd suffered under the same spell.

            Draco managed to get a spell out, but Arabella dodged it almost lazily.  Then she took the tickling charm off of Draco.  He stood up, breathing heavily.

            "I certainly hope you can do better," Arabella said.

            Draco glared darkly.  Without warning, he yelled, "Canicera!"

            Without so much as batting an eye, Arabella blocked it, and shot right back, "Erauyowere!"

            Draco swayed precariously a moment and then tumbled onto his back, crying out in pain for his feet were still planted to the ground.  He grimaced, struggling to get up but having little luck.  Partly from pain, mostly from aggravation, he yelled again.

            "Stop it!" James cried, jumping to his feet, "You're hurting him!"

            Arabella glanced up at him, then waved her wand, releasing Draco.  The boy quickly straightened his legs, panting slightly and looking angry and defeated.  Arabella, however, hadn't taken her eyes off James, and walked up to him now.  The Hufflepuff looked more than partly terrified, but stood his ground.

            "I do realize, James," she said firmly, "that you do have less experience with these matters than the other three.  And that you are younger, and probably have yet to duel your first time.  However, a slight discomfort because your legs are bent is Christmas to what you have ahead of you."

            James took quick gulps of breath, his eyes wide, but didn't back down.  "I-it-it doesn't mean y-you should hur-hurt him."

            A glimmer of remorse came to Arabella's eyes, but she quickly dismissed it.  "It doesn't work that way, James.  Voldemort or his Death Eaters will not stop because you ask them.  They would laugh, and kill you just like that."  She snapped her fingers sharply.

            James' eyes were even wider now, shining more than was natural in the moonlight.  "I could still try," he said, barely above a whisper.

            Arabella sighed deeply.  She looked carefully at James, as one who must kill a butterfly.  "There is one thing you must learn James, something we all must learn.  There are times when one must suffer for a greater good.  People have died fighting Voldemort, and more will.  I know that if my suffering, even my death, can help the resistance, I am willing.  You must be willing to do the same; and be willing to let your friends do the same."

            Arabella turned away, towards Draco, who had listened still sitting on the damp grass.  As she walked over to help him up and check on him, James sat down slowly next to Azar.  He was staring straight ahead, his breathing troubled.

            "I don't want to be an Heir anymore," he whimpered, tears finally streaming down his cheeks.

            "Oh James," Azar whispered, embracing him gently.

            He buried his face deep into her shoulder, holding to her arm as if it was his life on the line, the tears coursing like rivers down but not so much as a whimper escaping his lips.  Draco and Arabella walked over now, Draco looking concerned but far from worse for the wear.

            "Okay," Arabella said, businesslike, ignoring as James hastily dried his tears, "You're next, James."

            "You can't be serious!" Azar cried out in objection, "You drop this on him and expect him to face you?  He doesn't even know how to duel!"

            "He will learn," she replied simply, "and protecting him is the worst you can do for him."

            Azar glared at her mutinously, not one to be beaten.  Harry, however, touched her shoulder.  "She's right," he whispered.

            Azar didn't look pleased with the arrangement, but kept her mouth shut.  James, reluctant but firm, stood up and went onto the field.  He stood in front of Arabella, quivering, unsure.

            "Raise your wand," she commanded.  He did.  "Now bow."

            When he straightened up, he looked like someone about to be pounced on by a griffin.

            "Begin," Arabella said.

            She gave James a moment to get the first shot, but when he didn't take it, she did.  Following the same course as Draco, James was soon in a laughing heap on the ground.  He raised his wand, but couldn't get anything out.  Arabella withdrew the spell soon, and James quickly got to his feet, determined to prove himself.  Again, as she had with Draco, Arabella cried, "Erauyowere!"

            James, however, didn't try to move his feet at all, and stayed standing.  He yelled the first charm that came to mind, which Arabella had little trouble with.  There was a pause, as though Arabella wished she didn't have to continue, but she did, yelling the Banishing Charm.

            James flew backwards, skidding along the grass.  Azar gripped Harry's leg.  Tight.  Less swiftly this time, James got up.  Arabella gave him little time, shouting a curse.  In almost a panic, James dove to the ground, inadvertently dodging the spell.  Arabella burst into laughter.

            "Good instincts," she remarked, coming up to James and helping him up, "You have promise."

            With the slightest of limps, he walked back to his friends.  Azar stood up suddenly and began clapping.  Harry and Draco, smiling, joined in.  Sheepishly, James came up to them.

            "I-it wasn't so bad," he smiled, giving a small laugh through his tears.

            Azar laughed, hugging him tight.  "You did well."

            "You're turn, Azar," Arabella called, "And after Harry, the real work begins."

            Late that night, the four Heirs finally returned to the castle, each one of them bruised and sore.  Azar went to take James to his tower, so Harry and Draco walked on alone.

            "Are you tired?" Harry asked.

            Draco shook his head.  "You?"

            "I'm this close to bouncing off the walls," Harry grinned.

            "And so here we are going off to bed."

            "Can't be done."

            "So what do you suggest, Mr. Potter?"

            "Something along the lines of sitting around and talking, Mr. Malfoy."

            Draco laughed.  "You really do walk on the wild side.  In any case, Filch would catch us in a second."

            Harry knew exactly what he was going to say now.  Or what he wanted to say.  It had been gnawing at him since last year.  Now was the time to break all prejudice; he was going to invite a Slytherin to the Gryffindor tower.

            "How about my house tower?"

            Draco stopped dead in the middle of the hall.  "You mean the Gryffindor tower?  I thought that was off limits to the likes of me."

            "Was.  Doesn't mean it is."  Harry shrugged.

            Draco shrugged back, though unnaturally wide-eyed.  "Okay."

            In silence, they walked to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was first none-too-pleased to be woken, and then very unwilling to let a non-Gryffindor in.  However, Harry managed to convince her that Draco wasn't a knife-wielding maniac.  They crawled through the hole and into the bright Gryffindor common room, a sight Harry was very glad to see.

            "I can't remember the last time I worked so hard at curses.  I wouldn't care if I never saw this thing again," Harry said jokingly, tossing his wand aside.

            Not hearing any comment, Harry turned around.  Draco was looking the room over thoroughly from where he stood.

            "Oh, yes, sorry, I forgot the proper introduction," Harry said, clearing his throat and then beaming like a tour guide, "Welcome to the Gryffindor Common Room, place of study and socializing for Hogwarts' best and bravest!  It was in that corner that Fred and George Weasley caused a salamander to fly through the air spouting fireworks.  And over there is where Harry Potter and Ron Weasley fudged many a Divination assignment.  And some say that if you are very quiet, you may yet here the peep Neville Longbottom emitted when he suddenly turned into a giant canary!"

            "Not bad," Draco said, turning his gaze from the ceiling to Harry, "Can't say much for the color scheme, but it has windows.  Windows are good.  And a nice fireplace."

            "Yeah, the Slytherin common room is so dark it's depressing," Harry agreed.

            Draco looked at him oddly.  "You've been in the Slytherin common room."  No need to question.

            Harry smiled to himself.  "Oh yes.  I talked to you, in fact."  He laughed at the look of confusion on Draco's face.  "Another adventure from the Year of the Killer Diary."

            "You really had a death wish that year, didn't you?" Draco shook his head, looking around the room again.  "Why does it seem that everything Gryffindor has is bright and welcoming, while everything Slytherin has is dark and gloomy?" he asked wistfully.

            "I dunno," Harry shrugged, "Karma?"

            "Hey, I resent that!" Draco exclaimed, "I'm a Slytherin, and proud of it!"

            "A fact that still has me baffled," Harry said, flopping into a crimson armchair, "Here, make yourself at home."

            Draco took off his cloak, laying it on a nearby chair and sitting stiffly on the couch, his eyes concentrated on the fire.  The sound of crackling flames was all that filled the room, making Harry a bit uncomfortable.

            "Pretty good session, though, don't you think?" he finally asked, "Arabella may be old, but she knows a lot."

            "I guess," Draco said quietly, "Well, wandwork at least.  There's so much more, though."

            Harry cocked his head to the side.  "Like what?"

            Draco shrugged slightly.  "Like what to do when we're caught wandless.  I know Azar would have little trouble, but it's not a good situation to be in."

            The blond boy looked down at his left forearm, running his hand along it gently.

            "I guess just avoid that," Harry said, shrugging.

            "Or be ready for it."

            Draco reached deep into his robes, withdrawing a sheathed dagger.  Harry sat up sharply, a little surprised.

            "Where did you get that?" he asked.

            "My father," Draco said quietly, unsheathing the blade, "A family heirloom or tradition or something like that.  I used to keep it in my trunk, but recently got in the habit of carrying it with me.  I don't know why, really.  Just a feeling."

            Draco turned the dagger this way and that, watching the fire flashing along its silver blade.  It glinted, sparked, winked, almost as if speaking to him, entrancing him.

            "I can see why Muggles might even prefer killing this way," Draco mused, weighing the blade in his hands, "Spells are so simple, so dry, like snuffing out a candle.  But this... this is more like pinching the flame."

            "You'd get burnt," Harry said slowly, suddenly very wary.

            "But that's the adventure in it," the Slytherin said, almost eagerly, "With a wand, you say a few words, and that's it.  This...this provides danger.  This means there's a chance you could fail.  This is fire.  The wand is cold."

            Harry was wondering how in the world the conversation turned to this.  There was something going on in Draco's head, and he couldn't for the life of him hope to imagine what it was.  He stood up, walking towards the fire, towards Draco.

            "I wonder if he even bleeds," Draco mused, turning the blade slowly in his hands.

            Harry wanted more than anything to get that knife away from Draco.  The boy was talking nonsense.

            "What do you mean?" Harry asked, trying to get enough time to formulate a plan.

            Draco stared at the blade, turning in his hands as if it was a wondrous new invention that would solve all his problems.  "He's not human enough to die, so why would Voldemort bleed?  What do you think would happen if he was stabbed?  I imagine liquid as black as night pouring from him.  Or maybe nothing at all.  Maybe he's just an empty shell with nothing inside."

            "Well, we're not very well going to kill him with a knife," Harry said, trying to sound light-hearted and reaching for the dagger.  But Draco pulled it from his reach.

            "Why not?" Draco said, his eyes of stone, "Who says it wouldn't work?  He survived Avada Kedavra when he tried to kill you; some of the most powerful magic in the world was unable to destroy him.  Who says a dagger couldn't?  Anyone ever thought of that?"

            "D-Draco, come off it," Harry stuttered, his voice and attempts at light-heartedness fading into quiet.

            "Come off what, Harry?" Draco whispered, standing up, the words coming out like ice, "This isn't a game, some happy little child's book where the hero always wins.  This is the real thing.  This is Death."

            "I know about death, Draco," Harry said, backing up slightly as Draco walked towards him.

            "Yes, but not your own," he said, almost like a warning, or a threat.

            The firelight played shadows upon half of Draco's face, but both his eyes seemed to be glowing, lit by some inner madness.  Harry, unconsciously, backed up further, finding the common room wall, a stone barrier.  Yet he couldn't move left or right, frozen as Draco came slowly forward.

            "Those preparations we go to, those little lessons, what good do they do?" he went on, jerking his head back slightly at such a preposterous idea, "They prepare us for direct assaults, face-to-face wand work.  That's not how the Death Eaters work…  They sneak and skulk.  They slink into your bedroom and destroy you in your sleep.  They are everywhere, and everyone; your neighbors, your professors,…your friends."

            The lilt in Draco's voice at that last word caused Harry's heart to pound in his chest.  He tried to read the look in his friend's eyes, but that only furthered the terror.  His throat had seized up, and so he stood there, speechless, motionless, defenseless.

            "What if one of them caught you off guard; what would you do, Harry?" Draco whispered darkly, his voice rising with each syllable.  The grip on his dagger tightened.  "What if one night, a friend attacked you?  In your own common room?  You, wandless?"

            Harry felt his stomach drop to his feet.  He tried in vain to remember where exactly he'd tossed his wand when they'd come in.  His eyes suddenly fixed on Draco's hand holding the dagger, watching it grip the blade so tightly that Draco's knuckles lost what little color they had.

            "So, what are you going to do, Harry?" Draco asked, his voice a quiet threat.  Suddenly, his voice rose in a yell, his eyes flashing with an insanity Harry had never seen in them before.  "What are you going to do?!"

            Right then, Harry knew exactly what he was going to do:  run.  Dodging to the left, he headed straight towards the common room door.  Not quick enough.  With a speed Harry never imagined the boy possessed, Draco leapt in front of his only exit.  Harry quickly turned tail, dodging around an armchair and behind the couch.  This gave him enough time to turn so he could face Draco.  Not much, however, and he was in constant movement to keep the sofa between him and Draco, who now wielded the blade out and swinging.

            "What are you going to do, Harry?!" Draco yelled again as they dodged around the couch.

            "Snap out of it, Draco!" Harry cried in a panic.

            "That won't work on a Death Eater, Harry!" the Slytherin called, "What are you going to do?!"

            He suddenly leapt on the couch, raising the dagger.  Harry dashed away, hearing the blade rip into the top of the sofa.  Running, he looked over his shoulder to see Draco jump the rest of the couch and come at him.  When he turned back, he saw he was headed straight for the wall.  He tried to turn sharply, but felt something round and wooden under his foot:  his wand.  It caused him to slip.  Before he could even regain his balance, Draco grabbed his shoulder, slamming him into the wall.  He held his forearm roughly against Harry's neck, his other hand raised with the dagger, his teeth gritted and eyes flashing with malice.  Harry's eyes were wide with terror, his heart pounding, and he knew that this was it.  They had been right about Draco all along, and now he was going to die.

            Suddenly, that burning, mad light in Draco's eyes died.  His teeth unclenched and hold on Harry's neck loosened.  His eyes filled with a horror that matched Harry's.  Slowly, his left hand fell to his side, and the clatter as the dagger hit the floor rang through the empty room.

            "Oh God…" Draco murmured, slowly backing away, "Harry…I…I'm sorry…  Oh God, I'm sorry…"

            He slumped to his knees, staring at his hands as if they were covered in blood.  Then he buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs.  Harry stood there, trying to steady his breath.  He was so sure it must have all been a dream, some twisted fabrication of his imagination, but no.  This was real, he kept telling himself, and he had to deal with it.  He glanced at his wand, then shook his head.  Slowly, he moved forward, crouching down next to Draco and putting a hand on his shoulder.

            "Draco, hey, it's okay," he soothed, "It's okay."

            "No it's not!" Draco yelled through his sobs, "What was I doing, Harry?  I don't even know what came over me!  Oh God, I'm going insane."

            "No, you're not," Harry said firmly, though he wasn't even sure himself, "You didn't hurt anything.  Well, besides the couch."

            "I'm so messed up," Draco muttered, sitting fully on the ground now, "It's all too much...  I can't take it!"

            "You're not alone in this," Harry assured him, "I'm an Heir, too, Draco.  I understand."

            "No, you don't.  I'm the damned Heir of Slytherin!  And a Malfoy, to top it off!" Draco cried, still not looking up from his hands, "And sometimes I just get these urges, like voices in my head, to lash out, and I don't even want to.  Yet I do.  Badly.  God, everything about me just says 'evil!'  I don't know why I don't just give up and let it happen."

            "Because you-don't-want-to!" Harry yelled, enunciating each word.

            Finally, Draco looked up at him, confused yet hopeful.

            "Draco, it doesn't matter at all who you were born as!" Harry insisted, his grip on his friend's shoulder tightening, "It's your choices; those are what make you who you are!  As long as you choose to fight it, then you are not 'evil'.  Not by a long shot."

            Draco stared at Harry for a while, silent.  Then slowly, he brought up his knees, holding them tight against his chest.  "It's just not fair," he said sullenly, "I can't take all this, I really can't.  Did anyone think of consulting me before making me an Heir?"

            "Do you think someone consulted me before making me an Heir?  Or when my parents were killed when I was one?  Or every person I meet knowing my name before I tell them?" Harry's voice wavered, fighting the bitterness.  "No one ever asks if this is what we want for our lives.  We just have to make the best of it, and make sure we're ready for what lies ahead."

            "I don't feel ready," Draco said dejectedly.

            "You will be," his friend assured him, "We all will be."

            A silence filled the room, broken only by the dying fire's attempts at reviving its embers.  Draco stared blankly at the wall, chin on his knees, and Harry knew that no amount of pep talks would give him confidence.  That was something that only came when one had to choose between standing tall or going under.

            "So," Harry said, smiling and finally pocketing his wand, "care to explain why you decided to try and make a Harry kabob?"

            "Bloody hell, I don't know!" Draco exclaimed with a slight laugh.  It all seemed so absurd right now.  "I guess I was just feeling a bit frustrated."

            "I'd hate to see you when you feel very frustrated, then."

            Draco smiled wryly.  "Well, if I can't learn to accept all this, you will."

            "Accept what?" came a voice from the stairwell.

            Both boys jumped, turning their heads to find Hermione standing there, one hand against the stairwell wall.  She had a tired look about her, as one whose persistent attempts had yet to yield sleep that night.  Her two friends stood up, Draco particularly quick.  As she walked cautiously forward, she crossed her bare arms, rubbing her hands along them as if she was cold.

            "What do you need to accept?" she asked again, "And why are you frustrated?"

            Draco shrugged slightly.  "I dunno.  Life really.  You know, the regular:  homework, girls, evil snake creatures who want to take over the world."

            Hermione wasn't amused.  "What has been going on with you two lately?  And Azar, and even James.  You're hiding something."  She looked at each of them calculatingly.  "I don't like secrets."

            "We can't, Hermione," Harry said quietly, "We promised not to tell."

            "That's never stopped you before," she replied bitterly, walking over to the couch and sitting on it, hugging her knees to her chest.

            Draco gave Harry a meaningful look, indicating his head to the boys' staircase.

            Harry looked at him, confused, raising his hands slightly and mouthing, "Why?"

            Draco rolled his eyes, waving his hands as if to shoo Harry away.

            There ensued a soundless argument, Draco trying to get Harry to go to bed and Harry wanting to know why but receiving no answer.  Draco won in the end with a very icy glare and a hand firmly pointing to the staircase.

            "I guess I'll be off to bed, then," Harry said a bit awkwardly, walking, albeit hesitantly, up the stairs.

            After he heard the opening and shutting of Harry's dormitory door, Draco walked slowly over to Hermione, standing in front of her.

            "Trouble sleeping?" he asked after a while.

            "Oh, no.  I just use make-up to look this tired," she scoffed, staring at the glowing embers that had once been a roaring fire.

            Draco smiled.  "You're pretty funny when you're bitter," he remarked airily, "Reminds me of me."

            "Oh, that's encouraging," she said sarcastically.

            "What's the matter?  Really," he insisted.

            "Oh, I dunno.  Life really.  You know, the normal:  homework, boys, realizing that one of my best friends seems to have left me behind."

            "Clever," Draco laughed, sitting next to her, "But Harry hasn't left you.  He never would.  Circumstances just change, that's all."

            "But why?" she asked helplessly, "We used to be inseparable.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione:  the terrific trio!  We could do anything.  But then came Azar, and you, and now James.  I mean, I'm glad to be friends with all of you, but sometimes I wish things hadn't changed."

            "Everything changes, Hermione.  But was it really because of more friends?  I believe things changed long before that."

            Hermione finally looked at him, perplexed.

            "When you and Ron started dating," Draco continued, "That changed everything forever.  Harry felt left out.  Yes, I know you didn't mean to leave him out, but you did.  So he was forced to reach out, to find more friends.  You can't blame him for succeeding."

            Hermione stared at him for a long while, her face blank with fatigue.  "What's going on?" she finally asked, "What are you hiding?"

            "What's the point of hiding something if you tell someone what it is?" he smiled roguishly.

            Hermione turned from him, looking back at the fireplace.  "Ron never keeps secrets from me."

            Draco's eyes clouded over slightly.  "I thought you were above manipulation," he said heavily, standing up.

            "I'm not above anything when I've been tossing and turning all night because a friend proclaimed his love for me," she replied, a little angrily.

            "So you haven't just dismissed it?" Draco said, turning towards her.  She didn't answer.  "Well, since this seems to be the night for questions, I have one for you.  What exactly is your relationship with Ron?"

            Hermione raised an eyebrow.  "What do you mean?  You know what our relationship is."

            "Not specifics.  How serious are you?  Has marriage ever come up?"

            "Marriage?!" Hermione exclaimed, "I'm barely eighteen; why would we consider marriage?!"

            "My point exactly.  No one our age knows who they're going to spend the rest of their lives with.  But you seem to have made your choice."

            Hermione was silent for a long time after this.  She hardly knew how to reply.  "Well, what if I do know?"

            Quietly, Draco replied.  "What if you don't?"

            Hermione jumped slightly, looking up at him.

            "All I'm asking," he continued, "is for a chance.  Don't make a final decision when that's all you've ever known."

            She stared up at him, at his eyes, for what seemed like an eternity.  Then, determinably, she looked away.

            "You know," Draco said, breaking the silence, "my mum always had a way to help me to sleep.  I could help you, too."

            Not looking at him, she nodded her head ever so slightly.

            Draco sat next to her again, though not uncomfortably close, and began to sing.  Almost not of her own accord, Hermione closed her eyes.  She had never realized what a beautiful singing voice Draco had.  It was calm, soothing, almost like wind chimes.

Listen to the wind ride upon the darkened moor

Listen to the whispers upon the shining shore

Listen to the trees as you never have before

Lie yourself upon the grass and watch the dancing stars.

See the world as you only have ever in your dreams

See beyond all the world and everything it seems

See me as I am, and know what my heart means

Lie yourself upon the grass and watch the dancing stars.

Let me see beyond your face, that treasure never far;

To taste your kiss, hold your hand, and find out who you are.

And listen to my words speaking to your heart

And we shall lie upon the grass and watch the dancing stars.

            Draco faded off, and smiled.  Hermione had drooped into sleep long before.  Quietly, gently, he edged his way off the sofa, standing up.  On silent feet, he picked his cloak up from the chair he'd left it, and careful to not wake her, he laid it on her shivering frame.

            For the longest while, he didn't move, just watching her breath go in and out, her lashes lying gently upon her cheek, her lips slightly parted.  Then, knowing that during the day she would object and push her away, he leaned in closer and gently kissed her lips.

            He suddenly withdrew, standing, and quickly headed for the portrait hole, hardly daring to trust himself further.

~*~*~

A/N:  Well.  So that's that.  Hm.... ^_^

            *glances at the chapter*  This should have been much longer.  There was a whole scene that I had written specifically for it.  But then I would have to write more to fit it in nicely, and I've been long enough in updating.  (I have more excuses this time, too, but hey, I'll not bore you. ^_^)

            Weird?  Yes, of course.  Welcome to my mind. ^_^  I never suspected Draco to do that, actually.  I had one line I had written long ago floating here and there among scenes and ideas, and it suddenly hit me, thus the Harry kabob incident.  Very interesting indeed.  Seems Draco is wrestling with some inner demons. (And if anyone felt that a certain part of that scene seemed veeeeery familiar, I meant it to be that way.  I just love parallels.)  Ah, me.  Such big hints, and so many, too.  And yet so vague...  Not to me, of course, but hey, 'tis an author's right to know something of what's coming. ^_^

            And what's with Draco and Hermione, huh?  That seems like a veritable teeter-totter, doesn't it?  Hm, we'll see.

            And what about Sirius/Catherine and Remus/Juniata?  Well, I had more R/J, but as I said, that scene was left out.  It'll reappear, though.

            Yes, well, enough of tired ramblings.  THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED THE LAST CHAPTER!!!

            I know I've been horrible about updating, and so I'm so happy that I have some who are sticking with me!  Hugs for you all!

**beater#4:**  Thanks, though that was a pretty shameful plug, and somehow I doubt that you actually read a word of my work.

**Super saya-jin Gotan:**  Oh, never lose hope on me.  I shall finish, I promise.  And hopefully before the New Year! (Don't hold me to that. ^_^)  Thanks! (Well, not for the whip, but, yeah, you know. ~_^)

**Trisana:**  Thanks. ^_^  See, beater#4?  Now that's a shameless plug!  That's how it should be done!  Take notes!

**summersun:**  If you think THAT sounded suspiciously romantic, just you wait for more Remus/Juni! ^_^  *shrug*  Fletcher just fit quite well into a bit of a future plot hole (though I originally had it filled by someone else, but you would all have hated me terribly for that), and heck, he's fun to hate. ^_^  Thanks!

**chrestomanci:**  ^_^  I wouldn't have dreamed it either.  I was actually going to bring him in to fill a plot hole, but he insisted that was not his purpose.  So the hole goes unfilled, but he ended up filling an even bigger one, so I'm happy. ^_^  Ah, thanks.  I was hoping the Remus/Juni scene would work out well.  Thanks very much!

**Naralina:**  ^_^  Evil, sexist; to-may-to, to-maw-to.  Well, in my mind.  Doesn't mean he's in league with Voldesnort.  Of course, doesn't mean he isn't, either. (Oc I'm not making it that easy on you. ^-^)    And I would have named this chapter that, but it wasn't particularly light-hearted.  It's just a bit odd. ^_^  Thanks!

**jona:**  Thanks! *slight blush*  Hope to see you more around the board soon! ^_^

***Jay*:**  Probably so, though Harry was the one who knew him best.  Mundungus just walked in on me.  Besides, he's part of the resistance, so he has to be there. ^_^ lol, yes, definitely.  ^_^  Thank you!

**Colibi:**  Thanks!

**Jeanne:**  Thanks!  And more chapters is never a bad thing... *hint*

**Princess:**  Ah, the lovely Fletcher question.  Something that won't be answered for a loooooong time. *bwa-ha-ha*  Thanks!

**Kelly:**  LOL  You know my sick little mind too well! ^_^  Thanks very much!

**yerbroham:**  There's nothing like a review that takes up almost the whole screen. ^_^  And more Lee and Fletcher, definitely!  *gulps*  Er, yes.  About Dumbledore...  *blushes deep red*  I forgot about him. *hides face*  He wasn't in that part of the scene initially, and I added him for little reason, and just...  Well, in all fairness, Draco wasn't particularly bashed out in the open, just subtlety.  And Dumbledore could very well have been preoccupied by someone wishing to speak to him.  But, in all honesty, I just placed his name where it might need to go, and didn't do enough to make the scene work with him. *sigh*  I swear, I'm getting so sloppy.  I may very well ask for a beta reader soon.  Ah, dear Harry.  I particularly liked that bit. ^_^  *shrug*  Well, I dunno.  Somehow I see Lucius as the type who would, when asked about Dobby's disappearance, yell, "Shut up and go to your room!"  If the diary had been a winning success, naturally Draco would have been treated with the story many, many times, but as it was, I doubt Lucius would want to bring it up, or let it be brought up.  And yes, you had much to do with the writing of that scene, so thank you.  ^_^  Thanks again for the lovely review!

**Sonata:**  Pleased to make your acquaintance.  Oh my, and don't apologize for not knowing about my stories.  I'm thankful for every person who's nice enough to read my fanfics when there's an ocean of wonderful ones on this site alone.  And yes, I'm very proud! ^_^  Wow, thank you.  Another Golden Girls fan?!  Rock on!  So many of my friends either don't have cable or just don't watch it, so I'm glad to find someone else out there with such good taste. ^-^  Thanks!

**sammi_chan:**  Wow, thank you.  I'll try to check it out, but my fanfics-to-read list is quite long. ^_^

Well, thank you all!  Hopefully the regularity of school will kick in my fic-writing frenzy. ^_^  My, I feel so overwhelmed by it all.  I'm a senior, for crying out loud!  Goodness, college next year (and deciding on one this year).  And I'll probably be still writing fics. (Not this one, though.  It'll be done long before then, promise. ^_^  But I've a number planned, so my joy continues. ^_^)

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	17. Discovery and Liberation

Disclaimer:  Remus' wonderful fire remark (you'll see) was not mine, nor his, invention, but that of Abbey.  Though Remus did add the last part of it for Juniata's benefit. ^_^   Do read her stories, because she's pretty dang good.  She's in my Fav. Authors list, and Fav. Stories ("Key of Kings", my favorite of hers at the moment. *hugs Magice*).  

Chapter 17:  Discovery and Liberation

            Harry headed down to breakfast early—and alone—the next morning.  The Great Hall was empty but for the usual habitual early-risers.  He sat at the Gryffindor table, grabbing a piece of toast and chewing on it thoughtfully.  As he sat up the night before, unable to sleep, it had struck him that Draco was the second friend to attack him that year.  He realized now that both were Heirs, and began to wonder if maybe there was something in the title.  After all, Voldemort was definitely insane, and few had something good to say about Salazar Slytherin.  Who knew what had happened to the ancestors of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and even Gryffindor?

            James Bell entered the Hall just then, and hurried over to Harry.

            "Hey, Harry," he said, still glowing over his apparent success the night before.

            "Hello, James," Harry replied.

            He was too caught up in his reverie to pay much attention to the young Hufflepuff.

            "Hey James, can you promise me something?" he suddenly said, looking very tired.

            James looked slightly surprised but replied, "Sure."

            "Promise me you won't suddenly go insane and attack me, okay?"

            After a long pause, James nodded slowly and then, though still occasionally glancing at Harry, turned to his breakfast.  Harry laughed to himself, feeling much better.  Trust James to agree without questioning.

            It wasn't long before Ron, Hermione, Azar, and Draco came to the Hall and joined them.  Harry glanced at Draco and Hermione, who seemed unnaturally quiet, and wondered what exactly had happened last night.  Then there was Ron, oblivious to everything.  Harry felt a pang of guilt.  He had promised Azar he wouldn't tell, after all, but it didn't feel right that Ron didn't know.  He resolved right then that if it ever escalated to the point that Ron might get hurt, he'd have to tell.

            The bell rang then, and they all left for their respective classes.  As Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed down the hall, they were silent.  Ron kept looking at each of them, confused and uncomfortable.  Hermione suddenly froze in the middle of the hall.

            "I forgot my Transfiguration book!" she cried in horror, "I'll meet you there."

            She sprinted back towards the Gryffindor tower.

            Ron watched her for a while.  "She's been a bit distracted lately, hasn't she?" he asked.

            Harry shrugged, feeling uncomfortable.

            "Er, Harry?"

            "Yeah, Ron?" Harry answered, not facing his best friend.

            "I was, er, wondering," he said, a bit awkwardly, "when...well, when you were going to have quidditch tryouts."

            Harry clapped a hand to his forehead, eyes wide with panic.  "Quidditch!  I'd completely forgotten about that!"

            Ron stared at him as though he just declared there was no god.  "For-forgot about...quidditch?"

            Harry smiled.  "Breathe, Ron, breathe."

            "But...but...  You're still playing, right?" Ron asked, still a little faint.

            "Yeah, of course.  I've just been...distracted," Harry said, trying to hold back a laugh.  It all seemed very funny to him right then.  "How about having the tryouts this Friday?"

            "You're joking!" Ron cried, even more panicked, "I wouldn't have time to practice!"

            Harry couldn't stop his laugh this time.  "Ron, I'm sure you'll do fine."

            "Well I'm glad one of us is," Ron said sulkily as they entered McGonagall's class.

****

            Remus Lupin and Juniata Snape walked together along the streets of Hogsmeade.  They had met in the town nearly every day since their first chance encounter and truthfully quite enjoyed the friendship.  After all, no one feels for outcasts like outcasts.

            It was on this last day of September, the final rays of day making the coloring leaves glow, that Remus had been acting quite peculiar.  Juniata had noticed this, but hadn't said a thing.  She wasn't really sure of what to make of it.  The reason for his discomfort finally came during a long silence.

            "Um, Juni," Remus said, feeling a little awkward, "I know this is going to sound immature but...  I was wondering if we could... now please don't think this is just a mask for feelings I harbor for you, because it's not.  But could you pretend... to be interested in me?"

            Juniata stared at him, far from amused.  "You must be joking."

            Remus sighed.  "Yes, I know, it's childish.  But... Well, damn it, I was always the mature one.  I followed the rules, thought things out, made others think things out.  If I don't act like a stupid teenager now, I may never get another chance."

            Juniata laughed, sharp and short, but not malicious.  "That's an interesting way of looking at it."  She stopped a moment, looking him up and down calculatingly, and then said, "Okay."

            "What?"

            "Okay, I'll help you get her absolutely mad with jealously," Juniata smiled wryly, "Though how she'll be jealous because of me, I do not know."

            Remus cleared his throat, fighting to keep his face from going pink.  "And what makes you think this has something to do with making someone jealous?"

            "Because I have a brain and eyes," she said, giving him an condescending look, "Just be glad I'm willing to help in your juvenile pursuit."

            Remus looked at her a little suspiciously.  "Why help me if you disapprove so?"

            "What, I can't just do it to help you out?"

            He smiled at her dubiously.

            "Fine, yes, I have ulterior motives," she admitted, conveniently finding a tree quite interesting, "But that's my business as of now."

            "I hardly find it fair that you know my reason, when I haven't a hope of even guessing yours."

            "I hardly find much of anything fair," she remarked airily, turning to him, "Besides, an ape with half a brain could see your purpose."

            The corners of Remus' mouth turned up slightly.  "I guess I haven't been as discreet as I thought myself."

            Juniata shook her head sadly.  "Poor man, you're delusional.  A blinded fifty-foot giant stumbling through the streets of Dublin in broad daylight would be more discreet than you."

            "You seem to have a special affinity for metaphors."

            "I am queen of metaphors," she said regally, "After all, one must know how to fight fire with fire."

            "Ah, but there you are wrong," Remus said, shaking his head, "One doesn't fight fire with fire.  One fights fire with a powerful water charm."

            Juniata gave him a dark look.

            "Or baking soda," he quickly added, "Baking soda works, too."

            The anger faded from Juniata's eyes, and she tried to fight the smile inching onto her face.  "Not many wizards have that kind of practical knowledge," she remarked.

            "I've always tried to gather as much knowledge as possible, and knowing how to deal with life when you don't have a wand is a favorite area of mine."

            "Very sensible of you."

            "I've always been sensible," he said, not looking altogether pleased with the remark.

            "Until now, you mean," she smiled wryly, "Believe me, playing games as a way of courting is far from sensible."

            Remus looked more than a bit concerned at this remark.  "Then how should I go about it?"

            Juniata looked at the floor a moment, then turned her eyes to him, her brows knit with thought.  "You're asking much," she said heavily, "I, after all, have a motive for you pulling the jealously plan off.  To set you right puts me at a disadvantage.  And then there's the fact that you wouldn't know if you could trust what I tell you, for you don't know what I hope to achieve.  I could just be using you for my own ends.  So why would you want to know my opinion."

            Though it wasn't a question, Remus answered.  "Because I trust you."

            Juniata took in a sharp breath, staring at him with a look somewhere between awe and disdain.  "Trust me?  How can you trust me?  We were near enemies in childhood.  You barely know me.  I think you've gone past adolescence, back to naive infancy."

            Remus smiled, shaking his head.  "No, I'm at worldly adulthood at the moment.  I don't trust everyone, Juni; I learned not to long ago.  But I trust you.  You would never ruin my life to lift yours."

            Juniata was silent.  She looked away, trying to control her breathing, blinking fiercely.  When she finally spoke, looking back at him, her voice was quiet, even hoarse.

            "Things aren't always as they seem."

            She turned, walking swiftly down the road towards the Shrieking Shack.

****

            That fateful Friday arrived, coupled with a nippy morning.  When evening approached, a gathering of Gryffindor quidditch team hopefuls assembled on the quidditch pitch.  Harry quickly sorted them out and started the tryouts.  He knew hardly any of them besides Ron, though Dennis Creevey did give a rather poor try for keeper.  When Ron's turn did arrive, Harry watched a little down-heartedly.  It was clear his friend was nervous and his shooting suffered for it.  He knew there was very little hope of Ron taking a chaser spot.

            When every last person had had their time in the air, Harry huddled with his other three teammates.  Quietly, he quickly discussed an idea he had, one that would hopefully give Ron a better chance.  A little unsure, the team agreed.  Harry turned back to the group of Gryffindors.

            "Okay, tomorrow in the common room we will post a list of the new team members," Harry said, feeling a little nervous as each and every person looked mutinous about not finding out now.  He ignored their protests, though.  "I'm sorry, but I would like more time to discuss this with my team.  You'll have to wait."

            Grumbling, the group slowly filed towards the school.

            "Hey Ron," Harry called as the boy headed out with the others, "Could I talk with you for a minute?"

            Ron, a little reluctantly, came over to him.  Before Harry could speak, his friend held up a hand.  "I know, I know," Ron said, dejected, "I did horribly.  I know you're trying to soften the blow, but it's okay.  Quid-quidditch isn't…everything."

            "You didn't do horribly," Harry insisted, "But...  Well, I want you to get back up there so we can see more."

            "Oh, okay, sure," said Ron hopefully.

            Ron eagerly took up his broom and the quaffle.  Tyron Thatcher, the fifth year beater, played as keeper for him.  Harry and sixth year chaser Bella Arroz took to the air to watch while Hermione looked on nervously from the ground.  As Ron went on with his tryout, Harry felt his stomach sink.  It wasn't that Ron was horrible.  He had quite a few great skills, but getting that ball through the hoop every time was not one of them.  After a while, Bella flew over to Harry.

            "So..." she said, feeling a little awkward.

            "Yeah, I know," Harry sighed, "We had at least four chaser tryouts that were far better.  I guess there really is no hope."

            "Well, if I may suggest, mi capitán," she offered, "he does have pretty good speed.  And excellent reflexes.  And we didn't really get any good keeper tryouts...  Well, I'm just saying, let's see how good he is as keeper.  I think he'd do quite well."

            Harry glanced at Ron and then back at Bella.  "Not a bad idea," he said with a smile.  "Hey Ron!"

            Ron flew over, red in the face from exercise and embarrassment.  He didn't say anything, looking like he knew bad news was coming.

            "Take Tyron's place, okay?" Harry said.

            "What?"  Whatever Ron was expecting, it wasn't that.

            "Just go ahead."

            Ron, still confused, went over and spoke with Tyron, who flew down next to Hermione.  Bella flew over and grabbed the quaffle, then came back up to Harry.

            "Wanna play chaser?" she smiled.

            He laughed.  "Not particularly."

            "I can't very well test him on my own.  We need to be able to really see if he can do it."

            "Okay," Harry agreed reluctantly, "But don't make me do much."

            "Fine.  I think we can provide him with a challenge, as long as you never try to score," she grinned, tossing him the quaffle.

            Harry felt terribly awkward handling the unwieldy ball, but Bella more than made up for it.  He simply had to pass it to her whenever she wanted and she'd go on skillfully.  After a few runs, it was clear why Ron seemed so unable to score:  he was meant to block.  Even the skilled and seasoned player that Bella was had quite a bit of difficulty getting by him.  Granted, Harry saw practice was in order, but it was clear Ron was superior to any other keeper tryout they had had.

            "Okay, let's call it a night!" Harry called after a while, "Good job, Ron.  Head back to the common room; Hermione and I will see you there."

            As Ron headed back to the castle, Harry flew over to Bella.  She looked at him expectantly.

            "Good call," he smiled with a nod, "Very good call."

****

            'Cynder Wright            5th year             Chaser'

            'Oren Stockton            3rd year Chaser'

            'Ron Weasley               7th year             Keeper'

            Ron had never seen such a beautiful piece of parchment.  He felt like dancing and singing all around the common room, but instead sank happily into a nearby armchair.  So what if he didn't make chaser?  Keeper was better in fact, he decided.  After all, defense was fifty percent of the game.

            Two younger students entered the common room just then, going over to the list.  Though Ron couldn't see them nor they he, he heard them well enough.

            "I don't believe it.  I did twice as well as that Weasley kid, yet he got on," a freckle-faced fourth year huffed.

            "What can you expect?" his blond friend replied bitterly, "His best friend's captain and one of the beaters is his girlfriend.  That's half the judges right there."

            Ron sank lower in his armchair, beet red in the face.  He felt so angry and embarrassed, he was sure he would burst.  Just once he wished an honor could be his own.

****

            Two weeks passed fairly uneventfully.  Homework load increased a little, but not enough to complain about, and the Heirs continued their night training, now moved into a large empty classroom due to the cold.  Up to this point they had only been practicing standard wandwork but Arabella had hinted at some more intense lessons soon.  Harry had started quidditch practices and found that quidditch with two of his best friends was better than quidditch without.

            Azar was spending a lonely Sunday in the library when things took a bit of a jump.  Hermione came up to her table, sitting down and looking frantic to talk.  Azar looked up from her book with curiosity.

            "Okay, Hermione, spill it."

            "Spill what?" Hermione answered with feigned innocence.

            "Skip the formalities and jump right in," Azar said simply, "I know that's what you want to do."

            "Well, you seemed the best to talk to," Hermione let out, "I mean, you are a girl after all."

            "That's what they tell me."

            "And I certainly can't talk to Draco, because it's about him."  She fidgeted absentmindedly with the tear-shaped glass charm on her necklace.  "And Ron!!!  He would die!  And talking to Harry is just about as good as talking to Ron."

            "So now that we've established the fact that I am a last resort..." Azar smiled.

            "Sorry, but it's just…oh, I don't know," Hermione sighed, "Okay, here goes:  Draco's in love with me."

            Azar paused.  "And...?"

            "And I'm off to Italy to become a nun," Hermione said sarcastically, "What do you mean 'and?'?  Oh, don't tell me you knew!"

            "Well..."

            "I'm always the last to know!"

            "Actually, Ron doesn't know."

            "Oh, yes, of course he doesn't.  He wouldn't be this calm if he knew," Hermione sighed again.  "So, what am I supposed to do?"

            Azar laughed.  "How should I know?"

            Hermione looked very aggravated.  "What, so you're not going to help me?"

            "How could I help you?  You're an intelligent girl, and it's your decision.  I don't fit in anywhere."

            Clearly Hermione wasn't going to accept that as an answer.

            "Fine, we'll talk it out a bit.  What do you think of Draco's feelings?"

            "That's just it.  I'm not sure.  I just wish I knew what it would have been like if it had been Draco and me all along!" she cried, nearly tearing off that necklace charm in her frenzy, "I mean, I just don't know what to think."

            "And that's a first for Miss Hermione Granger," Azar smiled.

            Hermione looked at her darkly.  "That's not helping."

            Azar just shook her head.  "I can't help you, Hermione.  This is your choice.  Just think it over.  I know you'll make the right decision."

            Hermione sighed deeply.  "I absolutely loathe not knowing something."

****

            The next day was bright.  Ron actually found that he woke up early, having to prod Harry several times before he dragged himself out of bed.  They went down to breakfast, but Hermione never joined them.

            "Probably in the library," Ron said with a shrug when the bell rang, and he and Harry headed off towards Divination.

            Yet when they finally saw her in Potions, she didn't say a word, simply working with more urgency than she ever had in her life.  Even Ron couldn't help but feel a bit worried.  The rest of the day passed much the same, a gnawing feeling growing further and further in his stomach.  Ron headed alone to dinner, Harry grabbing a few things in his dormitory.

            "Hi, Ron," came a playful voice.

            Ron jumped, turning around to find Lavender Brown wearing what she clearly thought was a seductive grin.  She quickly walked right up to him, uncomfortably close.

            "Er, hello, Lavender."

            "How are you doing?" she smiled, running a finger down his arm.

            "Er, okay, I g-guess," he stuttered, stepping backward only to find a wall in his way.

            "Do you…want to join me for dinner?" she asked, that smile unyielding as she kept running her finger up and down his arm.

            "I-I have a girlfriend, Lavender."

            "You do?" she asked, smile dropping.

            "Yes, Hermione, remember?" he smiled slightly.

            "Oh, I thought you two had broken up."

            "Why would you think that?"

            "Well, I thought she was going out with Draco."

            "Draco?" he laughed.

            "Yeah.  I mean, they've been spending a lot of time together, and last night, Hermione kept saying his name in her sleep."

            Ron looked taken aback.  "In her sleep?"

            "Well, yeah."

            Ron's expression darkened.  "Why didn't I see it before?" he asked himself.

            "Well, it was pretty obvious," Lavender nodded.

            Ron closed his eyes, concentrating very hard on Hermione's feelings.  Without another word, he marched off, not knowing where his feet were going.

            "So, I might see you at dinner, then?" Lavender called hopefully.  He didn't answer.

****

            "It was so…"

            "Wonderful?" Azar interjected, a dreamy sort of smile on her face.

            "Yeah…" Hermione sighed, "That's the problem."

            Hermione and Azar sat alone in an empty classroom; the same classroom Hermione had used when learning to become an Animagus.  It was a lonely room, in deep need of dusting, and Hermione had pulled Azar in there right after their last class to discuss a dream she'd had the night before; a dream about Draco.

            "Well, you wished it, didn't you?" Azar said after a moment.

            "What?"

            "Yesterday, when we were talking.  You were playing with that Dream Weaver necklace of yours and you said you wished you knew what it would be like if you and Draco were dating."

            "You're right!" Hermione said, touching the necklace she wore with a laugh, "Well, that's a relief.  I thought my subconscious was trying to tell me something."

            "So you're just going to drop it?"

            "What do you mean?"

            "Well, I know if I'd had a dream like that about a boy, I'd be a little interested.  You've got to admit, Draco was pretty romantic."

            Hermione was surprised, but only because it was exactly what she had been thinking.  Just then, the very object of their talk walked in through the door.

            "There you are!" Draco said, entering the sunlight-filled classroom, "I was hoping I'd find you.  Your emotions have really been on a roller coaster."

            "Why were you wanting to find me?" Hermione asked, skirting around his last comment.

            "This," he smiled, brandishing a rose, "I had a bit of extra time in transfiguration, and there was a matchstick some younger year had left on the ground, so this came out."

            Hermione gingerly took it, then glanced at Azar, who raised an eyebrow with a smile.  This was a very interesting kind of Draco.  Before Hermione could speak up, though, she felt a jolt of something.

            "Ooh, do you feel that?"

            "Oh yeah," Azar laughed, "Someone is angry."

            Suddenly, Ron burst into the classroom.  His eyes were flashing, his jaw was set, and his fists were clenched at his sides.  Not losing the rhythm in his step, he marched right up to Draco and punched him.

            "Yep, someone is really angry," Azar said, nodding.

            As so often seemed to happen when Ron and Draco were in the same room, the two were soon reduced to a tumbling heap.  Hermione and Azar watched on, a yell of pain or anger periodically echoing through the room.

            "Er, you gonna do something, Hermione?"

            "No.  I'm sick of stopping these fights just to have them start up again.  I'm just going to let them tire each other out.  Maybe then they'll see how pointless it is."

            Just then they had to duck, for a beam of red light was heading straight for them.  Vines sprung from the spot of wall it had hit.

            "Whoa…"  Azar turned, wide-eyed, to Hermione.  "Since they seem to be using curses now, do you think now would be a good time for our exit?"

            "No," Hermione said stiffly, arms folded and lips pursed in a very McGonagall-like expression.

            Ten minutes later, the two boys were noticeably tired.  Their yells had stopped a while ago; they no longer had enough breath to utter them.  Azar couldn't help but smile because watching them slug it out was now more like watching two old men swat at flies.  Hermione, however, found nothing funny about it and looked as though she were holding back the urge to scream.  Finally, the boys pushed apart and neither had the strength to get up, just breathing hard and glaring at each other.

            "You about finished?" Hermione fairly spat.

            They glanced over at her, looking as ashamed as anyone with a red face and gaping mouth could.  Eyes narrow, Hermione marched up to them.

            "So, now that you've used up all your energy, is the world righted?  Are all your problems solved because you gave your opponent a black eye, hm?"

            Neither boy answered.

            "No?  Well, tell me the problem and maybe we'll solve it by…oh, I don't know.  Talking, perhaps?"

            "He's trying to take you from me!" Ron said with newfound breath.

            "What?" Hermione exclaimed.

            "She needs to know that she can do better than you, Weasley!"

            "Now wait a—" Hermione tried to interrupt.

            "Oh yeah.  A Death Eater's ex-son who hasn't a knut he can call his own.  Yeah, that's so much better."

            "At least it's better than someone who doesn't appreciate her!"

            "Oh, I think—"

            "What are you talking about, Malfoy?"

            "Er, this isn't the—"

            "She told me, Weasley," Draco said, breathing hard, "She told me that you made her feel ugly.  Whether or not you see it, she's beautiful."

            Ron was gaping now.  He turned toward Hermione, who was blushing.

            "Is it true?  I make you feel ugly?"

            "Well, not those words exactly…"

            "And you told him this, and not me?"

            "It was right after you said that remark about not caring about looks.  He was a sympathetic ear."  Hermione held her hand out, as if pleading for him to understand.

            Ron's anger was mounting again.  He stood up sharply, glaring at Draco.

            "Okay, these fist fights are getting us nowhere.  Tomorrow, noon, you and me in a wizard's duel.  The winner gets Hermione."

            "Ex-cuse me?!" Hermione practically yelled, "Did we just go 500 years back in time?  I think I can make my own choice, Ron!"

            "Fine," Ron said, more hurt than angry, "Choose him then if I make you feel ugly.  I don't want you to feel like something you're not."

            Then Ron turned and walked out the door.  Hermione looked crushed and surprised, one hand slightly upraised as if to stop him.  Draco walked quietly up behind her.

            "Look, Hermione, I'm—"

            "You just had to tell him that, didn't you?" She spun around, her voice quiet, accusing, her eyes narrowed.  Without another word, she turned back around and stormed out of the room.

            Azar gently put her hand on Draco's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

            "I'm sure, Draco, that—"

            "Just leave me alone," he growled, shrugging her hand away.

            As he swept through the door, Harry met him.  Draco shoved by.  Harry was slightly confused at the anger in Draco's face, but just shook his head and entered the room.

            "Hi, Azar," he smiled, "What's—Whoa, looks like a tornado came through here.  What happened?"

            She just gave him a look of disgust and brushed by him out into the hall.  He stared after her in surprise.

            "Okay then…"

****

            The empty classroom was dark but for one solitary window, glowing from the full moon in the cloudless sky.  It poured a small amount of silver onto the floor, causing the stacked desks to become monstrous shadows.  And among these shadows reaching to the lost ceiling stood a lone figure, his glasses glinting in the weak light.

            Slowly he raised his right hand, holding a bit of stick, and then pointed sharply at a pillow he'd placed on the floor.  It flew back into the wall.  Quickly, he pointed to another he'd set on a desk.  This one flew up to the ceiling, then came back down with a soft thud.  It surprised him a bit.  Always before he had to say a spell to make it happen, but no longer.  He wasn't really sure why this was.  He raised his wand a third time.

            "Hello," Harry said quietly.

            "Oh, you heard me?" Azar said.  She had snuck in quietly, watching him as he practiced his wandwork.

            "No," Harry said, turning to her and pocketing his wand, "I felt you."

            "So it's stronger for you, too?"

            "Yes, when concerning you," he replied, a flicker of a smile passing over his face.

            "Same thing here," she grinned, "Sign or coincidence?"

            "Whichever it may be, I'm glad it's that way."

            She took this as a good sign.  "Think we'll ever be able to read each other's minds?" she said.

            He shook his head.  "I think this is as close as it'll get.  Unless of course we marry, then I'm sure after fifty years we'll nearly be able to read each other's minds."

            She laughed slightly, then stopped slowly.  For awhile, Azar fidgeted, finally looking at him sincerely.  "I'm sorry about today," she said, "It just…  Well, all the bad feelings in the room rubbed off on me."

            "It's all right," Harry smiled, "Even the perfect Azar has a right to get cross."

            She laughed, a good comfortable laugh.

            "So, care to explain what exactly I missed?" he asked, "I surmise it involved everyone because I've felt all emotions going haywire."

            She gave a short laugh.  "That might take a while."

            "Good," he said, sitting down on the stone floor, "Because I have a while to spare."

            Azar smiled, sitting across from him and diving into the story.  Harry listened in silence, his face full of thought.  When she finished, he looked a mixture of relieved and displeased.

            "Well, I suppose it was bound to happen," he sighed, "I was just hoping for later over sooner."

            "I definitely don't envy you of those quidditch practices," Azar smiled slightly.

            He laughed.  "Well, they should get Ron into a better mood.  We should just talk with Draco and Hermione and try to fix the damage."

            "Damage?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

            "Yeah.  Damage, mistake, mess," he shrugged, "What would you call it?"

            "I dunno," she said quietly, "It depends on the outcome.

            There was silence for a while.

            "You…you are on Ron's side, aren't you?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

            Azar avoided his gaze a moment, then looked straight into his eyes.  "I don't choose sides.  If Hermione and Ron stay together, great.  If Hermione and Draco get together…great."

            Harry felt taken aback.  "So if Draco suddenly came out and confessed his love for you, you'd consider going off with him?"

            "No, of course not.  But that's different.  I know how I feel.  I don't know how Hermione feels, though.  Only she can make that choice.  If I choose sides, that would influence her.  Sitting on the fence allows others to live their lives.  You should do the same."

            Harry was flabbergasted.  "But…but Ron's my best friend…"

            "At the risk of sounding pretentious…" she said softly, "Well, I've always felt you should stand by friends, not behind them."

            He looked at her quizzically, but she simply stood up, reaching into her robes and pulling out her wand.  

            "So," she said, the moon glinting in her eyes, "since you seem set on practicing so diligently, care for a more challenging foe than pillows?"

            Harry laughed, still seated.  "You?  You want to duel with me?"

            "But of course!" she exclaimed, "Didn't think it'd never come to that, did you?"

            "Actually, I never imagined I might duel against you, but now that I think about it, I guess I should have seen it coming," he smiled, standing up and pulling out his wand.

            They held their wands up, each grinning and trying not to.  With a bow, the duel began.  Or rather, it was supposed to begin but neither moved to do so.

            "Ladies first," Harry finally said after they had stood there in silence a while.

            "Then you must mean yourself, for I'm no lady," Azar grinned.

            Harry laughed.  "Very well then."

            Still tentative about dueling his girlfriend, Harry sent a weak tickling charm at her, which she blocked with a laugh.

            "C'mon, Potter, you'll have to do better than that."

            "Well I don't want to hurt you," he sulked in defense.

            She shook her head slightly.  "No need to worry about that.  I've studied your technique.  And believe me, I will not go easy on you."

            Harry laughed.  "Come off it.  You'd never hit me with anything bad."

            "Must I really prove by example?"

            Before he could answer, she threw a curse at him.  He felt his legs give way from beneath him and he slumped to the floor.

            "That was a cheap shot!" he cried, finding it impossible to stand with jelly legs.

            "I told you I wasn't going to play nice."

            Harry performed the counter curse on himself just in time to dodge Azar's next volley.  He was definitely beginning to have second thoughts on this, but decided he'd better start playing by Azar's rules or pay the consequence.

            "Expelliarmus!" he cried.

            Unable to dodge this time, Azar flew back, landing roughly on the ground, but managing to keep hold of her wand by clasping it to her chest with both hands.

            "How'd you know to do that?" Harry said in surprise.

            "I didn't.  Pure instinct.  Lumos solem!"

            Harry was completely blinded by the sunlight that emerged from Azar's wand.  He stumbled backwards, then yelled the first spell that came to mind:  "Nox!!!"

            The light went away.

            "Hey!" Azar cried, "How'd you do that?!"

            "Pure instinct," he smiled, and without warning he sent another, much stronger, tickling charm her way.

            Azar was reduced to a giggling heap, and it wasn't until Harry took the spell off that she was able to regain her composure.  She lay on the ground for a while, trying to catch her breath.

            "Ah," Harry said in a coo, "Is the ickle girlie feeling sweepy?"

            Azar bounded up instantly, her eyes ablaze.  Without warning, she raised her wand high and cried with great ferocity, "EXPELLIARMUS!!!"

            Harry felt his wand torn from his grip.  He flew high and far, slamming into the stack of desks behind him.  As he crumpled to the floor, his impact sent a shockwave through the whole tower.  The top desk wobbled dangerously and then came tumbling down.  On instinct Harry curled into a ball, prepared for the blow.  It landed, on all fours, on top of him, trapping him almost like a cage.

            "Harry!"

            He sat up slowly with a groan, holding a hand to his head.  Azar soon came to a skidding stop right next to him, popping her head under the desk.

            "Harry!  Are you all right?  I'm so sorry!" she said in a frenzy, "You just got me angry and I guess I got a bit carried away…  Is anything broken?  What was hit hardest?  I'm so, SO sorry!"

            "It's all right, Azar, I'm fine," he assured her, "Just a little terrified out of my wits."

            "I didn't mean to!  I swear I didn't!  It just came out and—"

            "It's fine," he tried to assure her again, "I know the feeling, believe me.  And I've had far worse.  I wouldn't mind getting out from underneath here, though."

            "Oh, yes, of course."

            Azar backed out, helping him up as though he were a very old man.

            "Thanks, Azar, but I really am okay."

            "Thank you for not pretending you were hurt," she said fervently, "It would have killed me."

            "Ah, shoot!" he exclaimed, "That's a great idea!  Care to go back to where you were so I can do that?"

            "You git!" she laughed, but froze midway.

            "Wha—" he tried to ask, but she held up a hand to silence him.

            And from the hall he heard hurried footsteps, getting closer and closer.

            "This can't be good."

            Harry leapt up, running to the door and snatching up his invisibility cloak.

            "Smart thinking," Azar whispered.

            "C'mon," he said, pulling her under a desk and putting the cloak over both of them.

            Just in time.  The door opened slowly, a flood of lamplight dispelling that of the moon.  Mrs. Norris came meowing in, soon followed by the dreaded figure of Filch.  Harry held his breath, hoping not to be found out.  Azar, on the other hand, was having trouble with the silence part.  Her shoulders were shaking and every now and then she let out a quiet snort of laughter.  Harry tried elbowing her once or twice, but that only increased the laughter.  Thankfully Filch apparently didn't hear any of this and must have decided the sound of a falling desk must have come from another classroom, for he left, Mrs. Norris lurking right after him.  Harry waited until the sound of footsteps dissipated.

            "Could you have tried any harder to get us caught?" he said, exasperated, as he took off the cloak.

            "Well, I was going to yell, 'Hey Filch, over here!', but that seemed too obvious," Azar grinned, "Is it my fault I found all this horribly funny?  Besides, something was tickling me."

            "What?"

            "Something was tickling my leg," she insisted, "but each time I put my hand up to stop it, it stopped.  And then it'd start up right again when I took my hand away."

            "Move over," he said, trying to search in the dark for a possible source.  Azar soon joined him in peering at the floor.

            "Here!" he declared, holding his hand over a crack between the floor stones, "Do you feel that?"

            Azar hovered her hand over the same crack, feeling a small but perceptible cold draft.  "Definitely odd," she said, then added with a grin, "Let's pull it up!"

            "What?"

            "Well, clearly it's loose.  Let's pull it up."

            Harry shrugged, prying at the crack of the stone.  "Ow!" he cried, shaking his hand.

            "Your turn to move over," she smiled.  She pulled out her wand and preformed a hovering charm.  Though the stone resisted at first, she managed to pry it up.  It dropped heavily to the ground, and in its wake was a hole.  Harry and Azar leaned over, trying to adjust their eyesight to the darkness.

            "Hey, I think there's something down there," Harry said, reaching a hand down.

            "Wait!" Azar said, stopping him, "Does the phrase look before you leap mean anything to you?"

            "No," he said with a slight smile.

            She shook her head, holding out a wand and saying, "Lumos."

            A light appeared at the end of her wand, illuminating the little recess under the floor.  From its small opening, the alcove grew large enough to fit a crouched house elf.  And in the farthest corner was a book.  Without a word, Azar reached in and grabbed it.  It was barely able to fit through the opening.

            "Interesting," she murmured, running her hand over the title-less cover to open it.

            "Whoa, wait," Harry warned, "It could be cursed."

            "Ah, you and your killer diary memories," Azar scoffed, opening the book and peering at it.  "Well, looks normal enough."

            "Can you look away?" he asked worriedly.

            Azar looked at him amusedly.

            "Okay, see if you can close it and put it down," he insisted.

            Azar laughed, but complied.  "Convinced it's not cursed now?" she asked with a smile.

            "Hey, you can never be too careful."

            "Yes you can."

            She picked the book up again and opened it to the first page.  "Unique Enchantments," she read, "By Trinity Ravlaw.  Hey, it's dated.  Ooh, this is nearly 1000 years old!  Looks like I've got a new book to read."

            Harry looked at her in surprise.  "Don't you think you should give it to Dumbledore or someone?" he asked.

            "Why?" she shrugged, "I'm sure there are tons of them."

            "Tons of them that were hidden under a classroom floor?"

            "Hey, I put a copy of Hogwarts, A History behind a loose stone in my dormitory.  Doesn't mean it's special."

            He stared at her.  "Why would you do a thing like that?"

            "Don't look at me like that!" she laughed, "I did write a few things in it, and I hope that some future Ravenclaw finds it.  It's kind of a way of letting myself live forever, you know?  After all, one lifetime of Azar Zundel is not enough."

            Harry laughed.  "No, definitely not."

            "So, care to continue what we started?" she grinned, standing up.

            "The duel?  You have to be joking."

            "Of course not!" Azar laughed, pulling him to his feet, "We were interrupted, so we don't know who won."

            "We tied," he said simply.

            "Tied?  Ha!  I had you down for the count!"

            "Fine then, I concede the duel."  He headed for the door.

            "You can't concede.  I refuse to accept it!" she cried.

            He laughed.  "Well, you'll just have to."

            "Why can't you just admit that I won?" she challenged.

            "Okay, you won."

            Azar smiled with satisfaction.

            "…because I conceded," he added, walking out the door.

            The Ravenclaw gave a small scowl, her hands on her hips.  Harry walked a little farther before turning back.  She was still in the classroom.

            "Coming?" he asked.

            "Sure thing," she said with a smile, twirling and pocketing her wand.

            She came forward and took his arm happily, and they walked down the hall together.  It was a while before Harry realized that the sudden draft he felt was due to the fact that the back of his robes was missing.

****

            Harry couldn't remember ever feeling this nervous about a quidditch game.  However, it had nothing to do with the actual game.  A week passed and practices had been just as Harry had expected:  strained.  The team ready to take on their first game, it was no different.  Ron was like a dark shadow in the room.  He wouldn't even look at Hermione, and was even a bit aloof to Harry.  Hermione kept glancing at Ron, then looking back at her feet.  The tension affected the whole team and Harry was worried what effect it would have on their play.

            When they took to the field, Harry hoped that the wild roar of the stadium would destroy all the bad feelings of the team and they'd be able to concentrate on quidditch.  Harry found himself overly distracted as he walked forward to shake hands with the Slytherin captain Blaise Zabini.  Absentmindedly, he glanced at the rest of the Slytherins.  When his eyes fell on one, however, they grew wide.  Draco Malfoy was there, dressed in green robes and holding a broomstick.  Harry just stared, wondering if he was seeing things.  Draco gave a small smile.

            "Potter," Hooch's voice came, "You can let go of his hand, Potter."

            "Oh," Harry said, shaking the shock off and realizing he had been shaking hands the whole time, "Sorry."

            Blaise gave a sneer and clumped to his position.  Still numb, Harry made his way to his team.  The whistle blew and they were up.  Harry instantly flew over to Draco, who was acting as though there wasn't a day he hadn't been on the Slytherin team.

            "What are you doing here?" he asked, still not certain he wasn't seeing things.

            "Playing quidditch," Draco answered simply, flying a little ways off.  Harry followed him.

            "But…  How?  You were off the team…"

            "Well, I'm back on," Draco said, a little stiffly, his eyes concentrating on looking for the snitch.

            Harry stared at him, but knew he would receive no answers from the boy, and so he flew off to concentrate on the game.  Draco had good reason for his silence, however.  Though he seemed to be focused on the game, he was actually trying to avoid Harry's eyes.  He wasn't really back on the team, not yet anyways.

            It would be a long time before Draco forgot the jolt of fear he felt when, upon having a very large hand slammed in the middle of his homework, he looked up to find the towering figure of Blaise Zabini.  Blaise was normally a formidable figure, but in the bleak common room and after just reading about a particularly gory giant coup, he was downright terrifying.  Draco hadn't known what the captain could possibly want with him, as they hadn't spoken in years and had even then never been more than acquaintances, despite being in the same year.  Blaise tossed aside any formalities and cut to the chase:  Nan Chung's grades had dropped to a point of no return and the team had no replacement seeker.  Not that Draco was a last resort, but most likely a best choice.  However, they weren't going to let him back on for nothing.  The Gryffindor game was coming up, and Slytherin had yet to beat Gryffindor with Harry Potter on the team.

            "The long and short of it, Malfoy," Blaise had said gruffly, "is we're letting you have a chance.  Beat Potter, you're on the team and back on good terms.  No pranks, no spurning, you get a clean slate.  Lose, we find a new seeker and nothing changes."

            "And what if I refuse to play?"

            Blaise had stooped low towards him, staring him straight in the eye.  "Then welcome to hell."

            Draco was only just able to keep his voice calm.  "Well, since you put it that way…"

            A stray bludger brought Draco out of his reverie, just in time for him to dodge it.  Focus! he told himself.  You've got to win this one, or die trying.

            He had considered telling Harry about it.  In fact, it had been the first thought in his head after Blaise gave him the ultimatum, but he couldn't do it.  To be allowed to win…  The thought just made Draco sick.  Besides, he wasn't even sure if Harry would say yes.  After all, it was quidditch.

            The more he thought about it, the more Draco wondered why he was even trying.  It wasn't to be on the team, that he knew.  He could easily survive without the constant practicing and freezing game days.  It wasn't even to stop the pranks.  He'd gotten used to those, and they had even died down.  Though Draco didn't really want to admit it, there was a clear answer:  pride.  He was a Malfoy and a Slytherin, and if that combination didn't spell "arrogant", nothing would.

            Another stray bludger.  Draco ducked quickly.

            "Focus!" he whispered fiercely to himself.

            "Gryffindor score!" Anthony Moon's voice cried over the cheers, "And that keeps them in the lead, 30-10!"

            Down in the midst of the game, Ron was having a great time.  He'd let that first goal go by purely because of nerves, but when he saved the shot by the Slytherin captain, his confidence soared.  As the game went on, he was positively unstoppable.  He began to wonder why he hadn't noticed earlier that he was a good keeper.  It would have saved him a lot of disappointment.

            When the game was 70-10, Ron actually swung upside down to make an otherwise impossible save.  The uproarious cheers couldn't help but bring a grin to Ron's face as he swung back upright and tossed the quaffle along to Bella.

            "Another remarkable save by keeper Ronald Weasley!" Anthony commentated, "He's been having a phenomenal first game!  Looks like he's got some of the reflexes of his older brothers.  Arroz passes to Wright, taking…"

            Ron heard no more.  He gripped his broomstick tightly, sure to snap the old craft if he weren't careful.  But at that moment, he couldn't have cared less whether or not he broke his broom.  His sight was positively burning white with fury and he felt numb all over.  Was there no escaping it?!  He was more than just the younger brother or best friend, after all!

            He didn't even notice when the Slytherins scored.

            "Dowis scores while the Gryffindor keeper seems to be daydreaming!  Wake up, Ron!"

            A small chuckle traveled through the crowd and Ron felt his face positively burning up.  From above, Harry watched his friend a little warily.  When some people got angry, they used the emotion to excel at what they were doing.  Ron was not one of those people.  Harry figured he'd better catch the snitch as soon as possible.

            Draco was thinking exactly the same thing, but not for the same reasons.  If he didn't catch the snitch quickly, Slytherin might lose, and that probably wouldn't be good for him.  He'd been too lost in his own worries to notice that Ron was no longer having a phenomenal game and thus a Slytherin loss was less eminent.  The thing that worried him most was the fact that Harry had a Firebolt while he had a Nimbus 2001 that had been gathering dust for nearly two years.  He knew he couldn't count on speed for the win, but schemes.  How far he would go was another question…

            Watching Harry out of the corner of his eye, Draco suddenly felt very nervous.  Harry was too good and definitely absorbed in the search for the snitch; Draco knew he had to distract him, just for a few minutes at least.  Taking a deep breath, he bent low over his broom and sped for the Slytherin goalposts.  Harry sped right after him, just as Draco knew he would.  With the skill of someone who grew up with a broomstick in hand, Draco flew straight through on of the giant hoops and pulled up sharply, flying upside down in the opposite direction now.  His jaw dropped open.  There was Harry, pulling to a halt, but he didn't concern Draco right then.  No, there was a glint of gold that had all his attention.

            Speeding forward, Draco turned right side up, gaining on the snitch.  Closer and closer, just within reach.  Suddenly, something struck his broom tail, causing him to spin wildly.  He regained control, looking about wildly for the snitch.  It was gone again.  He then looked for who had struck him with a bludger.  He spotted Hermione, who quickly mouthed an apology.  Draco stared, positively wide-eyed.  He'd been so close.  "If only she knew!"

            But no, he quickly told himself, no one should know.  He should do it on his own.

            Draco set about to searching once more, Harry a little more wary of him.  Draco flew farther away, hoping the snitch would appear closer to him.

            "Slytherin score!  80-40!"

            Ron was a positive wreck.  The anger that was writhing in him had yet to die down, though some of it was replaced with panic that he would cause the team to lose.  It was not a good combination.  Hermione kept watching him, to the extent that she slacked off a bit and failed to save Cynder from a bludger.  The kid was barely able to duck in time.  Harry was getting more and more distracted by his team that seemed to be falling apart after such a promising beginning.

            Draco noticed none of this.  His very thought and being were upon the air, eyes darting around hurriedly for the slightest sign of gold.  Slytherin scored again, a great cheer erupting with a wave of green flags.  And Draco saw it.  Far below him the snitch hovered, almost as if it was watching the game in interest.  Without a second thought, Draco dove straight down.

            He needn't worry whether or not Harry was following him.  The Gryffindor could never be so distracted as to not see a snitch dive.  Draco only hoped that he had enough of a head start.

            As he neared the snitch, oh so close, it suddenly moved as if to fly off.  Draco was not going to let it go so that Harry would end up overtaking him and grabbing the snitch.  The head start was all he had and to let the chase go too long would mean failure.  In that instant, he did the stupidest thing he'd ever admit to:  he let go of the broom.  Bracing his feet on the broomstick, he pushed off hard, diving forward and closing his hands around the golden snitch.

            Draco could have cried with joy at that moment, but it was short-lived.  He soon realized that nothing now stood between him and hitting the ground with the full speed of a Nimbus 2001.  Of the millions of thoughts that could have come to him at that moment, only one succeeded.  "At least we won."

            Before Draco had time to even start his life flashing before his eyes, however, he felt a hard, even painful tug on his leg and he promptly came to a stop.  The blood rushing to his already spinning head, Draco looked up to see Harry Potter holding tight to his ankle.

            "You could have been killed!" Harry cried angrily, "What were you thinking?!"

            "I wasn't," Draco called back, "and hanging upside down isn't really helping the thought process."

            Harry gently flew down, setting Draco on the grass and landing beside him.  The Gryffindor looked ready to tell Draco off something horrible, the same with Madam Hooch who was soaring over to them.  Neither got their chance, however, for the boy was engulfed by a sea of green.  The Slytherins had stormed the field, cheering and screaming as if they had just won the quidditch cup.  They beat Gryffindor!

            From everywhere, hands patted Draco's back, yelling congratulations.  Without hardly knowing what was happening, Draco was swept up onto the shoulders of Blaise and another large Slytherin.  He was carried with the crowd that was setting off to have the largest party Hogwarts had ever seen.  Draco just looked all around him, amazed, ecstatic.  Giving a triumphant cheer, he lifted his hand still holding the snitch flapping its silver wings.  And as he rode the green wave away from the field, he heaved the golden ball high into the air.  Up it flew, higher and higher until it was out of sight.

****

A/N:  *gets down on knees and begs for forgiveness*  I am so, SO sorry!  I didn't realize how long it had been since I had put up a new chapter!  *bangs head against wall*  Bad Ady, bad! (Ady is very excited to see the second Harry Potter movie, sir!  And Ady is positively bouncing off the walls of the news that book 5 will be out within a year, possibly before Ady has left high school!)  It's a long chapter, thought, you have to give me that much.  I had actually 5 more pages to this one, and many more to go, (I'd wanted to get to Halloween) but suddenly realized that this was long enough and that I really should get it up.  Again, I'm so terribly sorry.  Time just flies by (for some ironic reason) when you have school to worry about.

            Yes, well, the chapter.  After much research into name meanings and usage, I've decided that dear Blaise Zabini is male.  Whether you agree or disagree actually has little relevance, because I'll not turn back on that.  Just lettin' ya know.

            Aw, I let this chapter off on a bit of a high note. ^_^  Yah for Draco!  Poor kid could use a break.  And I hinted on things changing for Ronnikins.  It gets worse, trust me, but not for a while.  ^_^

            I'm so terribly happy to get this up!  It's 2 am, right now.  Probably will be 3 by the time I write my thank-yous. ^_^

            Thank you everyone who reviewed Ch. 16!!!  I'm so glad you guys take the time to give me your thoughts and ideas.  It's a wonderful help!

**jona:**  ^_^  Yeah, poor Harry is having Dumbledore rub off on him.  Thanks!

**Naralina:**  As it is terribly late and I replied to this on the board, I'm afraid it's left to just this:  Thank you so much.

**Kelly:**  LOL  Beneath it all, we're all messed up. ^_^  Thanks!

***Jay*:**  Yeah, I'm a killer for parallelism. ^_^  Just wait 'til the end of this fic.  Woa, I just go nuts with it there. ^_^  And Harry and Azar will be getting more…er, "screen time". ^_^  I've got some fun things planned.  Thanks!

**Liliana-Suger:**  Probably much longer than year 6 (knowing me ^_^).  Oh, thanks!

**Trisana:**  lol, No, you were the one who was very good with the shameless plug.  And here we have another excellent one. ^_^  Ah, wow, thanks.

**Sonata:**  *grins*  I'll treasure my frying pan, spoon, and plastic slinky forever.  ^_^  Thank you so much!

**Mystery:  **Oh no, I didn't forget Ginny.  I just figured that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, after having 6 boys, had given up on a girl and so stuck poor Ron with the name. ^_^  Thanks!  And I actually have a grown-up Harry fic in mind, though it has yet to make it from the drawing board. ^_^

**Rogue15:**  Thanks!

**sammi_chan:**  ARGH! (Not screaming at you but at myself.)  I'm sticking way to much in this fic.  Hm, now where can I pencil Ron and Percy in…  Possibly before Halloween…definitely before Christmas.  ^_^

**abbey:**  Thanks!

            Well, yes, another chapter is ended.  And it's only 2:25 now! ^_^  Guess I should start thinking about doing my homework… *big sigh*  Well, at least I got that first part of my college application done.  Now the essay. *cringe*

            I adore you all and thank you again for reading my story!  It brings a lot of joy to me. ^_^

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	18. The Book

 "…children with no vision do exactly what they're told…"

                                                -Creed, "Say I"

Chapter 18:  The Book

            Draco felt as though he was on a permanent high.  As quickly as Slytherins got grudges, they could drop them, and Draco was hailed as a hero by most.  The match did create a few heated conversations with his inter-house friends ("You should have said something instead of trying to break your neck!") but he knew that would be short-lived.

            The twenty-third of October rolled around and having finished his homework, thanks in a large part to not needing to worry about being cursed in his own common room, Draco was walking alone along the halls.  He passed Filch, who gave him a very dirty look, but as the caretaker moved on, Draco quickly bent down and gave Mrs. Norris a loving pat.  During his long bout under the invisibility cloak, he'd actually got her to trust him to the point that she could see him break a rule and Filch would never know.  It came in quite handy when he wanted to walk the castle at night, which was often.

            He came to a fork in the corridor and was just about to continue forward without a thought when he glimpsed something.  Backtracking in confusion, he saw he wasn't mistaken.  There was Azar Zundel, sitting against the wall and staring at the floor as if she didn't particularly like it.

            "Hello, Azar," he said, walking over to her.

            You would have thought he'd set off a canon the way she jumped.  She looked about almost frantically but when her eyes fell on him, the expression on her face changed.  It was Draco's turn to jump.  She was looking at him in a way she never had, in a way he never thought she could:  with absolute anger.

            "What do you think you're doing?!" she yelled, not a hint of a joke in her voice.

            "I-I just said hello," Draco tried to defend.

            Azar was in no mood to listen to reason.  "Can't you tell when a person is concentrating!  Honestly, I was this close, and then you come along with your 'hello, Azar' and obliterate it!!!"

            "Well excuse me for being friendly!" Draco said, going on the offensive, "So I guess next time I see you, I should say, 'Sod off!'  Is that better?!"

            Azar shot up, clenching her fists.  "No, it'd be better if you'd kept your trap shut!"

            "To hell with that!"  Draco's eyes were flashing dangerously.  "I'll just say hello to you all the time!  Hello, hello, hello, he—"

            Azar shoved him hard, causing him to slam into the wall.  Draco didn't move for a while, shocked and dazed, but then his eyes darkened once again.

            "Fine then," he growled, storming off.

            Azar was horrified.  She moved to run after him.  "Draco, wait!"

            "So you can slam a hole in my head?  Oh yeah, I'll wait for that," he called back without turning around.

            "Please!  If you only knew…"

            "Oh, sure, monthly visitor, right?  I'm not buying that," he said, turning a corner and disappearing.

            Azar stopped, slumping against the wall.  Slowly she turned, leaning her face against the stone and looking at it without hope.

            In positive misery she declared, "I hate being a Seer."

****

            Harry practically flew down the hall.  He'd slept in that morning, even after assuring Ron that he was getting up.  Quidditch, homework, and being one of Four that had the whole world on his shoulders was starting to edge in on his sleep time.

            As quietly as he could, though Harry knew Snape would notice anyways, he opened the door to Potions.  Not meeting the icy glare of his professor, Harry hurried to an empty seat right up front, the only spot left.  He decided against getting his things out as it would make a lot more noise in the silent room.  Snape stared him down for a long while, much longer than ever would be needed, and then turned away.

            "As I was saying before Potter decided to grace us with his presence," Snape said, pacing slowly, "as seventh years, you are expected to not only have greater skill but greater discretion.  We live in dark times, where every witch and wizard must be able to protect themselves.  Though it may seem extreme, possibly morally wrong, it may very well come down to kill or be killed.  That brings us to today's lesson."

            Harry gulped slightly.  He didn't particularly like Snape talking about "kill or be killed", especially while he was sitting in the front row.

            Taking no notice of the worried look on many of his students' faces, Snape withdrew a glass jar from his robes.  Inside was a single, but very large, spider.  With a swift movement, Snape unscrewed the lid and turned the jar over with a loud slam.  The whole class jumped.  The dazed spider was on the desk now but still trapped by the jar.  Snape reached into his robes again and pulled out a vial filled with a vibrant green liquid.  He took off the top and, from his vantage point, Harry saw that it was a dropper.

            "Watch carefully," Snape said.

            He lifted the jar just enough to slip the dropper underneath, pressing the release and creating a small emerald pool near the spider.  Harry watched the spider rush to it.

            "This is the Poison of Delayed Sleep," Snape explained matter-of-factly, "It is a highly complicated potion and one that many never bother to learn, especially as the Killing Curse serves about the same purpose."

            A murmur rent hurriedly through the class.  Eyes went wide and everyone leaned forward expectantly.  Half the pool of green was gone now, but the spider seemed as alive as ever.

            "The potion isn't enough in and of itself," Snape said, seemingly reading their minds, "If it was, this would simply be a poison, nothing greater than cyanide or arsenic.  What makes this poison so unusual is that it simply leaves the drinker vulnerable.  A person could have the poison in his veins for years and never know it, for the poison attaches to your very being.  After one drink, you are forever vulnerable.  As long as you live, so does the poison."

            Draco, seated by a very pleased Queenie Greingrass, gave a shiver at these words, though whether more from terror or awe he wasn't sure.

            Snape pulled out his wand and lifted the glass jar away.  Lazily, the large spider started making it's way across the desk.

            "Somnora," Snape cried, his wand pointed at the unlucky creature.

            The spider slumped to the desk and didn't move a millimeter more.

            "That is why it is called the Poison of Delayed Sleep," Snape went on, unfazed, "By drinking it, you lose nothing.  You could lead a long life without even the knowledge that you had it in your system.  But by that spell, you die."

            Harry stared, like the rest of the class.  It seemed impossible that someone could be killed by such a simple thing.

            "Do not think, however," Snape went on, a dark lilt in his voice, "that with this you can go around poisoning all your classmates.  The potion must be at least 80% consistency and thus if placed in a drink or food item, it will either dilute to the point of disuse or give the item a rather brilliant green coloring.  Slipping it to a person unwittingly is almost impossible."

            Without any ceremony, Snape swept the deceased spider into the waste bin.

            "Your assignment today is to concoct the Poison.  I shall check, at random, one of your potions near the end of class.  Use your time well."

            The lack of instruction had everyone ill at ease, especially at the mention of "checking" the potions.

            Seamus piped up, worried, "But Professor, what about the spell?"

            Snape turned to him, his eyes holding malicious amusement.  "I believe I told you the first day of class, Mr. Finnigan, that there would be little foolish wand-waving in my class.  I intend to stick to that.  Begin."

            Harry turned in his chair, surveying the class.  Hermione sat a few desks away, next to Neville, and in the corner farthest from her sat Ron and Lavender, who didn't seem to particularly mind the seating arrangement.  Draco, some desks in front of Ron, looked like he was having a hard time ignoring the adoring quips from Queenie.  Harry would have given anything to have any one of them sitting next to him.

            "Potter," Snape said sharply.

            Harry instantly whipped around.

            "Do you find the rest of the class particularly interesting to look at?" the Potions master asked venomously.

            "No, sir, not really."

            "Then I suggest you turn to your work.  And five points from Gryffindor."

            Harry gaped at the injustice of the punishment but knew better than to talk back to Snape when he was so eager to deduct points.  He tried to turn to the potion but it was little use.  Invariably, his head would swivel to glance back at his friends, Ron working furiously and Hermione needing the occasionally nudge from Neville as a reminder to stay on task.  Draco looked none the better, clearly hoping that by checking the potion Snape had meant feeding it to Queenie.

            Harry caught his eye, grinning and mouthing, "Having fun?"

            "Kill me," Draco mouthed back, gesturing as if choking himself.

            "Potter!" Snape snapped, causing Harry to spin around once more, "I thought you would have learned the first time.  Five more—"

            "Professor, it was my fault," Draco piped up.

            Snape raised an eyebrow suspiciously.  "You, Mr. Malfoy?"

            "Afraid so," Draco said, taking on a debonair drawl, "It's a curse, really, being this attractive."

            Harry's eyes bugged out and he felt somewhere between astonishment and nausea.  Ron gaped as though trying to take in air while Hermione gave a small but derisive, "Ha."

            Snape's eyebrow rose further.  "Indeed?"

            Draco leaned back in his chair, looking very conceited.  "Oh yes.  First there's those like Harry that get in trouble for being unable to keep their eyes off of me.  And I can't tell you how annoying it is having your way blocked by a gaping second year.  Then there are those like this tawdry tart," he said, nodding his head at Queenie, "who think I have any interest in their pathetic conversation."

            Queenie looked positively scandalized but a small laugh traveled through the class, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike.  Snape, however, looked far from pleased.

            "Kindly return to your potion, Mr. Malfoy," he said, turning back to his desk.

            "What, not taking off any points?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows in feigned surprise.

            "Do you want me to take them off?" Snape countered.

            "Depends," Draco said, looking at Snape calculatingly, "Would you?"

            All the class was silent.  No one had ever challenged Snape so calmly before.  Harry wasn't sure what exactly, but he believed Draco had some purpose in mind.  In any case, he seemed to have rendered the potions master speechless.

            "After all," Draco said, his voice suddenly becoming heavy, almost malicious, "It's always 'points from Gryffindor', right?  Not Slytherin."

            Harry swore he could hear an ant crawling along the dungeon floor in the silence.  Snape stared warningly at Draco, but he just stared right back, defiant.

            "It is my judgment, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said slowly, "as to when an act merits point deduction."

            Draco gave a low whistle.  "Whoo, you have rotten judgment then."

            Snape's eyes flashed with anger.  "Mr. Malfoy, how dare you disrespect me—"

            "I dare because I know I'll receive no repercussions," Draco said idly.

            "Malfoy, if you say one more word, I'll—"

            "One more word," Draco said, sneering.

            "Five points from Slytherin," Snape said firmly, turning away as if to say the matter was done.

            "Bet that was hard to force out," Draco replied slyly.

            "Ten points, Mr. Malfoy!" Snape fairly shouted, "And I shall be checking your potion at the end of class, so it would be better if you worked on it."

            Draco shrugged, looking as though he were trying not to beam.  In shock, all the class turned to their potions.  Harry felt surreal, as though this had to be some strange dream.  As he went back to his work, measuring out a milligram of crushed billywig stings, he felt something hit gently against his back.  Turning, he found a hovering piece of folded parchment, and Draco using his wand under his desk.  Harry quickly snatched the note before Snape saw it.  Discreetly, he opened it up and read the small, neat handwriting:

Score one against the bigots.

****

            Remus Lupin and Juniata Snape walked along the corridors of Hogwarts in silence, something they did rather often.  It just felt nice, knowing you weren't walking alone.

            Suddenly, Juniata slipped her hand into Remus'.  He looked at her with surprise.

            "We're being followed," she whispered, hardly moving her lips.

            Remus perked up his ears and finally heard the gently swish of quiet steps.  "By whom?" he asked quietly.

            "No one of consequence," she said, "Just act lovingly."

            Remus complied, slipping his hand around her waist.  She went slightly rigid at his touch and her face quietly flushed.  Remus realized that his idea of "lovingly" was clearly different than Juniata's.  He felt the color rise to his face also, embarrassed and wishing he could withdraw his hand.  But that would look strange indeed to whoever was following them.  Not that they walking as stiff as robots didn't look strange.

            Juniata suddenly stopped, withdrawing his hand from her waist and taking it in her own.  "Oh dear, I forgot to tell you, Remus," she said in a voice much too fluttery to be her own, "Sirius wanted to speak with you right after his last class.  You'd better hurry and meet up with him."

            Remus raised an eyebrow slightly, but the look in her eyes compelled him to yet again play along.  "Oh, yes, I guess I'd better."

            "I'll see you tonight," she said gently, though she looked like she was trying to take in every bit of determination that happened to be floating in the air at that moment.

            A second later, Remus knew why.  Juniata leaned forward, her eyes closing, and placed her lips on his.  For a moment, he stood in shock, then quickly closed his eyes and kissed back.  His heart pounded with insecurity.  Should he pull away or wait for her to do so?  He started to realize he was no good at this fake romance stuff.

            Juniata was the one to pull away.  With a smile and squeeze of his hand, she walked off down a separate hall.  Remus stood there a long time, practically shaking.  He began to wonder if this really was a good idea.  Glancing, he looked behind himself, down the hall where their follower supposedly had been.  He saw nothing in the shadows.  Taking a deep breath, he continued down the hall, heading for Sirius' classroom.

            Juniata was not at all surprised to find her brother when she turned a corner.

            "I certainly hope you're off to wash out your mouth after that disgusting display," Snape said sneeringly.

            Juniata shrugged him off, continuing on.  Snape was not to be deterred, however.

            "Sirius, Juniata," Snape said angrily, "You called him 'Sirius'.  You abandon me while welcoming as a friend the man who drove the wedge between us."

            She glared at him.  "He was a stranger, and you were a brother.  Sirius is no longer a stranger, and you might as well not be a brother."

            "But Black!" Snape cried, disgusted.

            "Well, I'm not dating him, so it hardly matters."

            "Don't even get me started on the werewolf."

            Juniata spun around, sparks flying from her eyes.  "Don't you ever call him that!" she shouted, "He had no choice!  You are more a Death Eater than he ever is a werewolf!"

            A cloud passed over Snape's face, his eyes dark, loathing pools.  "Juni, I absolutely forbid you to see that man," he said tersely.

            "Ha!  Like I would listen to you."

            "You are doing this to get to me, Juni!" he cried.

            "And what if I am?" she challenged, "Or what if I'm not?  What if I truly am now linked to your dearest enemy?  How does it feel?"

            Snape's eyes went wide and he just stood there.  Juniata stayed only a moment more, then swept into the dark corridor.

            "It's about time you got here!" Sirius cried as Remus entered the classroom, "My class ended fifteen minutes ago."

            Remus couldn't help but feel a bit surprised.  He's thought that Juniata had said that simply as an excuse to leave.  It never crossed his mind that she might have meant it.

            Sirius looked at him a bit suspiciously.  "So you spoke with Juniata?" he said tensely.

            "Yes," Remus said, becoming more and more lost.

            "Been spending a fair amount of time with her, haven't you?" his friend said, again that same intensity in his voice.

            "A fair amount…"

            Sirius' eyes darkened.  "I knew you were feeling a bit hopeless, but honestly, Moony; a squib?"

            Remus felt as though he'd swallowed an ice cube.  His eyes turned to slits.  "And what is wrong with a squib?"

            "Well, it's not so much that.  She's Snape's sister, for God's sake!"

            "Yes, and Lily was the sister of that Dursley woman.  Siblings hardly constitute a person, Sirius."

            Sirius bristled slightly.  "How can you even stand it?  They're near twins, Moony.  It's like you're dating him."

            "Honestly, we're not even dating!"

            Remus realized too late his mistake.  He froze.

            "You're not?" Sirius said, surprised, "Then what are you doing?"

            For a moment, Remus considered telling Sirius about his jealously plan.  But only for a very short moment.  After all the times he'd told Sirius to "grow up", he didn't think he'd be able to take the advice coming back the other way.

            "We're friends, okay?" he said tersely, "It you could get over your biasness for once, then maybe you'd see that people really can be decent."

            Not wanting to answer any more questions, Remus hurried out of the room.

****

            "You should have been there, Azar," Harry smiled broadly as they walked down the corridor toward the Great Hall after Defense Against the Dark Arts, "I never realized what effect we really had on him.  And I know he walloped Snape a good one.  Heh, we'll get rid of housists yet!… Azar?"

            "Hm?" she asked, as if waking up, "Oh, yes.  Interesting."

            "Are you okay, Azar?" Harry asked, a bit anxious, "You've been acting a bit sullen lately."

            She smiled slightly, finally looking up at him.  "Oh, it's nothing.  I've just been thinking…  I don't feel much like supper.  I think I'll head up to my dormitory."

            "Are you sure?" Harry asked, "I could skip supper, too."

            She shook her head.  "No, I'm fine, I promise.  Just a lot there on my mind."

            Harry nodded.  He knew the feeling all to well.  "I'll see you at the meeting tonight, right?"

            "Of course!" she cried with a laugh that sounded strangely forced.

            Harry stared after her as she walked off.  She hadn't seen her like this since…

            "She's hiding something."

            Harry turned to find Draco behind him, staring off at where Azar had disappeared.  "Hiding something?" he questioned.

            Draco nodded.  "Can't tell what, though."

            "But Azar doesn't hide things."

            Draco looked at him sideways.  "She hid the fact that she was a Seer…"

            Harry glanced at him, then back down the corridor.  "Well, I trust her," he said firmly, "She'll do what she needs to."

            They turned heading blindly to the Great Hall, and thus didn't look down the hall that forked with theirs.  If they had, they might have seen Ron Weasley leaning against the wall, his eyes wide.  As if trying to verify what he heard, he whispered aloud:

            "A Seer…"

****

            Remus entered Dumbledore's office alone.  Many of the resistance was already there but not Sirius.  Remus was glad of that.  He quickly found Juniata, pulling her into an isolated area of the room.

            "I think it's time to stop," he said gently.

            Juniata raised a brow, waiting for him to continue.

            "The 'fancying each other' bit," he said, "It's not doing much good and I'm not good at it.  Besides, the only person I made jealous was Sirius."

            Juniata let out a laugh.  "I would have thought as much.  Catherine really isn't the jealous type."

            Remus felt a bit awkward.  "You're okay with it?"

            "Oh, yes, of course.  It's served my purpose."

            Remus raised his eyebrow with a smile.  "Care to tell me that purpose?"

            She smiled sweetly.  "When flobberworms fly."

            Remus laughed pleasantly, glad to have the weight of being in love off his shoulders.  His laugh faded, however, when he saw who was coming up to them.

            "Hello," Sirius said without any prerequisite, holding a hand out to Juniata, "I don't believe we were ever truly introduced.  I'm Sirius Black."

            Looking slightly amused, Juniata took his hand.  "Juniata Snape."

            Remus smiled, thinking to himself.  'I guess it did do good after all.'

            Harry kept glancing at Azar who hadn't said a word the entire meeting.  She was staring blankly at Dumbledore as he went over standard resistance news.  He couldn't help but feel a bit worried.  What's more, she was clutching a book firmly to her chest, covering it so Harry couldn't even see the title.  Trying to put this in the back of his mind, he turned to Dumbledore.

            "Severus has succeeded quite well in the Captured Wing and we are now able to get more out of those that followed Voldemort," he said.

            Harry felt a jolt at hearing this.

            "But I thought Snape was still a spy…" he whispered to Azar.

            He'd said it quietly enough, but didn't realize that the potions professor was standing right behind him.

            "I ended my spying days last May, Potter," Snape hissed, apparently angered at Harry's ignorance, "I overheard a conversation about Voldemort's plans to 'make a demonstration' and when my name was mentioned, I knew retirement was in order."

            Harry felt ashamed a moment, then inclined his head towards Snape slightly.  "I'm sorry."

            Snape didn't remark.

            Dumbledore began to wind up the meeting, asking if anyone else had anything to add.  Harry noticed Azar tense up slightly at his words.

            "Well, if there's nothing else, we—"

            "I have something to say," Azar suddenly interrupted, raising her hand slightly, the other clutching her book even closer to her chest.

            Harry looked at her in surprise.  It was clear Azar was not about to make a joke or something of the sort, but that she was dead serious.  In fact, her hands were shaking.

            "Yes, Miss Zundel?" Dumbledore prompted gently.

            For one of the first times in her life, Azar felt too nervous to speak.  She kept glancing around at all the faces, all turned to her wonderingly, expectantly.  Slowly dropping her hand to her side, she took a deep breath.

            "I know how to defeat Lord Voldemort."

****

            "Why didn't you tell us?"

            "I don't know!" Azar said exasperatedly, frowning at Harry, "It's not exactly the easiest thing to tell."

            After the torrent of surprised cries and great confusion, the four Heirs had been shuffled into the room behind the portrait of Miranda.  Harry stood at the end of the table farthest from the door, unable to sit still.  Azar sat at his right, Unique Enchantments by Trinity Ravlaw before her, and Draco to his left, James next to the Slytherin.

            Draco slowly traced the 'Lancelot' carved in the table before him, trying to act as though he couldn't hear the words passing between Azar and Harry.  He was sure to catch every word, however.

            "I'm almost positive about this but not completely," Azar went on.

            "So you couldn't tell us, but you were positive enough to announce it to everyone?"

            "Well, I couldn't very well have ignored it, could I?!" she snapped, "I just kept waiting for the right time, maybe even someone asking if anyone had any ideas on how to defeat him, but that never came so I just had to speak up."

            "You expected someone to ask if anyone knew how to defeat Voldemort?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

            Azar's eyes were positively flashing.  "Well it's not as stupid as someone saying, 'But I thought Snape was still a spy,' now is it?"

            Slightly abashed, Harry stared at her a moment, then sat roughly in the chair beside her, propping his chin in his hand as he looked the other way.  The room was silent for a long minute before Azar reached out and took his free hand.

            "I'm sorry, Harry legs," she said gently, "It's just… Well, it hasn't been a good day."

            "Understandably," he answered, turning towards her, "Anyone would be a bit touchy after holding a secret like that."

            "It's not just that," she sighed, "You know the…"

            She paused, looking over at the other two boys.  Draco was pretending not to be listening in.  James didn't even bother to pretend, his eyes wide with curiosity.  Azar decided just to ignore them.

            "The forest nightmare, I guess you could call it.  I've been trying to remember what I…Saw.  And I think it's working."

            Harry stared at her.  After all this time, he couldn't believe her mind still dwelt on that, or that her memory had anything to offer.

            "I guess I should be apologizing to you, too, Draco," she said, looking over at the blond boy, "That's why I snapped at you like that the other day.  I was trying to concentrate and wasn't in the mood for any interruptions.  I'm sorry."

            Draco shrugged.  "Guess anyone who was trying to remember her 'forest nightmare' might have a tendency to be a bit temperamental."

            Azar felt even more ashamed at this.  Harry was the only one who knew about her Sighting and she wanted to keep it that way.  But how secrets ate at her…

            "So how does this tell us to defeat Voldemort?" Harry asked, turning the book so he could look at it, "I mean, you said it was written nearly one thousand years ago."

            "Turns out this Trinity Ravlaw was Rowena Ravenclaw's granddaughter," Azar said quickly, as if all the information had been so bottled up it had to explode, "See?  They apparently changed the name, who knows why, just removing 'encl'."

            "Whoa, wait, what?  Removing whose ankle?" Harry asked in bewilderment.

            Azar smiled, realizing what she must have sounded like.  "No, E-N-C-L," she said slowly, "Ravenclaw to Ravlaw.  I just wish I knew why…"

            "But what does Ravenclaw have to do with defeating Voldemort?" Draco asked, trying to get back on the subject at hand.

            "Well, I was simply reading through this, finding it quite interesting indeed.  Did you know that there are exactly 52 ways to magically punish an unfaithful husband and not get caught?  Whoo, believe me, none of them are pretty."

            Draco raised an eyebrow and turned to Harry.  "Glad I'm not in your shoes, mate."

            Azar smiled.  "Yes, well, when I came to page 1,267 I found—"

            Just then, the portrait door opened and Dumbledore entered with a more selective group of the resistance including Sirius, Remus, Snape, McGonagall, Connerly, Mr. Weasley, Juniata, and, a sight that darkened Azar's look, Mundungus Fletcher.  They entered, filling the empty seats of the Round Table.

            Remus looked about a bit awkwardly for a moment, realizing there were no seats left.  He leaned against the wall, wishing at least that he wasn't the only one.

            "Here, Remus," Draco said, standing up to give the man his seat.

            "Oh, no, it's fine, Draco," he tried to decline.

            "No, really," Draco insisted, "I'd rather stand anyways."

            "Thank you," Remus finally consented, seating himself.

            Draco reclined against the wall, turning to Dumbledore whose eyes twinkled merrily at the boy.  Draco smiled slightly, looking at his feet.

            "Thank you, Draco," Dumbledore said quietly, then turned to the rest of the group.  "Miss Zundel, I do believe you have something that warrants examination."

            "Yes," she said, quickly ruffling through the pages of the book, "Here, on page 1, 267, the Heirs' Strength."

            She passed the book to Dumbledore who read over it carefully.  His blue eyes shot back up at Azar, almost in wonder.  She nodded happily.

            "Rowena Ravenclaw was a Seer, after all," she said, her eyes dancing.

            "Yes," Dumbledore smiled, "Yes indeed."

            "What does it say, Albus?" McGonagall asked briskly.

            "Simply, Minerva, how the Heirs of the Hogwarts four can defeat an evil that threatens the world," Dumbledore said, giving her the book.

            Slowly, the old manuscript made its way around the table.  Harry stared at it a long while.  A spell…a spell created specifically for this purpose.  He was beginning to see the benefits of Seers went far beyond parlor tricks.

            "So now what?" Harry asked.

            "Now you learn the spell of course!" Sirius cried with a grin.

            Dumbledore didn't get a chance to consent or disagree before Fletcher spoke up.

            "Learn it?  Honestly, Albus, they're only children.  Hell, James is barely twelve!"

            "Um, excuse me," Harry interrupted, a little awkwardly, "but being twelve doesn't make you unready.  You'd be surprised what kids can handle.  I went through quite a lot when I was 'barely twelve.'"

            "Yes, he fought the killer diary that year," Azar added.

            Harry shot her a quick "not helping!" look.

            "I agree with Harry, Mundungus," Dumbledore said sternly, quieting the burly man, "However, I would like to look into this before we jump to learning the spell.  Where did you say you found this book, Miss Zundel?"

            "Under the floor, in an empty classroom," she replied.

            True to his nature, Dumbledore didn't ask any awkward questions such as why she was digging up the floor of an empty classroom in the first place.  He simply nodded quietly.  "Yes.  We must be sure before we take on such a delicate matter."

            "But Professor," Azar objected, "I've read nearly this whole book!  It's as real as you and I."

            "Miss Zundel, we cannot jump in before we know," McGonagall piped up.

            Dumbledore nodded.  "One can never be sure of the purpose of objects found beneath the school."

            Azar closed her mouth, clearly displeased.

            "Until we know for sure," Dumbledore said, "I'll have to keep this."

            "But I haven't finished it!" Azar cried indignantly.

            Dumbledore smiled slightly.  "I'm afraid you'll have to wait.  Sirius, would you mind taking these four to their towers?"

            "We can take ourselves," Azar said hastily, even a little resentfully, "I'm sure Sirius should be here for these 'adult' matters."

            Without another word, she stood up and walked for the door.  The boys followed in varying degrees of confusion.  Azar marched through Dumbledore's office and down the stairs, but as soon as she reached the corridor, she stopped, motioning for the other three.

            "Tomorrow night," she told them quietly, "meet me in Binns' classroom.  If they aren't going to teach us that spell, we'll have to teach ourselves."

            "But Dumbledore has the book," Harry put in.

            "Yes, but I would never be so stupid as to hand that thing over unless I had the spell copied down," she said simply, walking off at a brisk pace.

            Harry and Draco gaped after her.  They never thought Azar would be one to blatantly disobey Dumbledore.  It was like Neville Longbottom passing Potions with flying colors.

            James looked after her, too, shaking his head.  "I think we're rubbing off on her," he said simply.

            Draco and Harry turned around and stared at him, causing the Hufflepuff to shrink slightly, but holding their gaze all the same.

            "It felt like the right thing to say," he said sheepishly.

****

            "Here it is," Azar said, withdrawing a fairly large parchment, "Lights please."

            Three wandtips lit up, learning close to the words that Azar held.

            "The Heirs' Strength," she read, "Created by Rowena Ravenclaw, this spell serves a singular purpose.  It can only be used by heirs of the Four and only in the vanquishment of a world evil."

            "Vanquishment?" James asked in confusion.

            "Bringing about the destruction or death of someone," Azar answered quickly, reading on, "The spell, said in succession, creates a force field around the victim.  This field changes colors in a procession and the spell can only be finalized when the field turns violet.  Once a person or being is inside the field, they cannot escape unless the spell is withdrawn or they are pulled out.  Have caution, however, for spells pass easily through the field.  Once the field is violet and the spell is finalized, its work is done.  The spell is mortal for anything within the field."

            "Mortal?" James asked, ashamed to do so.

            "Fatal," Azar smiled gently, "The rest that follows is the actually spell.  It's time to get to work."

            The next five nights, the Four worked on the spell.  It was surprisingly easy, Azar knowing exactly how to explain how to work it.  Naturally, they weren't truly able to practice the Heirs' Strength, but they were sure to know everything about it they could.  Those five days passed, and the Four felt sure of themselves now.  Dumbledore had yet to even speak to them again on the subject.

            All of them felt a little betrayed by the reaction of the resistance.  James most of all felt that the whole group thought of them as little more than children, Heirs by happenstance.  And that they were, though they would be the last to admit it.  But in the end, surely they would be "allowed" to learn the spell, and then how relieved all would be to find they already knew it.

****

            Draco Malfoy marched down the halls like an ominous rain cloud, every student hurrying out of his way.  He was not having a good day.  Not that he really had expected to, for you see, today was October 30th:  Draco's birthday.  As a child, his birthday was always by far the best day of the year.  It was always filled with lavish parties, mountains of presents, and his parents, smiling and bursting with pride.  His father had never been in a bad mood on his birthday, and Draco realized that it was probably a conscious effort.  It was one of those things that always made him think, made him wonder about how much Lucius truly loved him.  Of course, he loved the success Draco might be, not the failure he had become.

            At Hogwarts, he could always count on a mound of presents being at the foot of his bed when he woke up that day, a letter attached expressing his parents' joy at his being a year older.  Last year, naturally, no such thing happened.  This year was no different.  He even woke late that morning, missing breakfast.  The lack of attention made him extremely moody, even though it was of his own making.  He avoided his friends in class and during meals.  Even when he saw Azar once in the halls and she tried to talk to him, he swept right by her.

            When it came time for supper, he grabbed a few things from the Slytherin table and hurried up to his dormitory.  He simply wanted to get this day over with, and then life could be normal again.

            The dank Slytherin common room was empty, as was his dormitory.  He looked out the window for a long while, watching the dark clouds roll against each other in the violent wind.  He remembered once hearing that every dark cloud had a silver lining.  Unless it was hiding, he couldn't see one now.  The window was low, at level with the ground; a rotten view, Draco had always thought, especially on a stormy day.  The trees in the Forbidden Forest seemed to be struggling to pull up their roots, and as he watched, splashes began to appear on the window, growing more and more frequent as time passed.  Trust it to rain on my birthday, he thought bitterly.

            Draco turned away from the window and to his bed, ready to shut out the dismal day.  When he opened his bed curtains, however, he froze.  There, piled with care, were presents, wrapped in a veritable rainbow of paper, and a large card propped on top declaring 'Happy Birthday, Draco!'  And all he could do was stare, dumbstruck.  Could it... but that would make no sense.  His father surely wouldn't send him anything for his birthday.  Unless...

            Gingerly, as though afraid it might explode, he reached out and picked up the card, opening it.  It wasn't from his father.  He sat slowly on the bed behind him, tears coming to his eyes as he read.  Azar, Harry, Hermione, James, and even Ron had written congratulations in it.  And in a postscript Harry answered his question on how they got the gifts in, the magic combination:  invisibility cloak and eavesdropping.

            He gave a laugh, wiping the tears from his face, and reading the card again.  It was the most wonderful piece of paper he had ever seen.

            FWUMP!  Draco jumped up, dropping the card, and stared at the window.  For a moment, he couldn't discern what had collided with the glass.  Then he saw the small brown owl slumped exhausted on the outside of the windowsill.  Hurriedly, he opened the window.  It was almost as if he set off a bomb.  The wind roared in, whipping Draco's robes and bed curtains around, sending a stinging spray into his face.  He snatched the winded owl inside and quickly slammed the window shut.  The air was still again.

            "Having fun, are we?" he smiled, the owl giving him a very weary look.

            Gently, Draco took the envelope from the weak owl, setting the animal on the bed to rest.  His attention then turned to the letter.  The envelope was blank, no name, no address.  Wrinkling his brow, Draco turned it over.  It was sealed twice, one with the design of a bumblebee, the other of an x, almost as if it had been hastily scratched in.  Draco ran his hands along the wax, wondering...

            It really was none of his business.  Of course, that had never stopped him before.  Besides, Harry had almost made a career of sticking his nose where it didn't belong, so Draco didn't think it would be so bad if he did it just this once.  Besides, it might be important, and that owl sure wasn't up for another trip.  Before he could give it a second thought, Draco tore open the envelope.  Out fell a letter, short and concise, looking as though it had been scribbled on whatever bit of paper was lying around.  It read:

Dumbledore,

          I'll skip the formalities to the point.  Now is the time, if you're ready.  Voldemort sets out tonight, alone, from a bit north of Glasgow.  By a bit of prying, I found out he's going through Liddesdale, though that's not his last destination.  Where he hopes to end up, I do not know.  I believe he will not let anyone know until he feels safely established.  He's afraid.  If there is any possible way that we can end this now, then let it be.  Who knows if such a chance will come again.

                   -The Insider

            Draco reread the letter, his heart pounding.  Clearly this was from Lee, and it made it sound as though it was now or never.  Naturally, Draco's first instinct was to rush this note straight to Dumbledore, yet he just sat there.  After all, he wasn't sure what exactly Dumbledore would do with the news.  He felt that this was a chance they couldn't pass up and they were ready for, but he wasn't sure that Dumbledore would feel the same way.  Besides, Harry had been on unsupervised "adventures" many times and Draco felt that he might as well take his fair share.

            He hopped up from the bed, going to his trunk and pulling out his invisibility cloak.  However, he froze in the midst of putting it on.  For a long time he held his hand against the smooth fabric, staring at it.  He turned to the owl, still winded on the bed.

            "I don't like this," Draco said quietly.  "It's not like it's really wrong.  After all, it concerns the heirs.  We should be the ones to decide, right?"

            The owl cocked its head slightly to the side.

            "We are!" Draco insisted, "It's not like we're children anymore.  Sure, you could say that about James, but the rest of us are more than capable of adult decisions.  Besides, if we told Dumbledore, he might just stop us.  Too much depends on us to not take this chance.  You have to take chances, right?"

            The owl simply stared at him.

            "Well, I don't care," Draco huffed, "I'm going."

            And putting the cloak firmly on, he went through the door with a slam.

****

            Harry felt awkward.  Hermione walked beside him but she was clearly lost in thought.  He had no idea what to say.  He wondered if maybe he should say something about class or Draco's birthday.  While they were delivering Draco's presents, things seemed to have gone back to what they were before.  But they second they were out of the Slytherin common room, Ron went off on his own.  Harry wished he could understand his best friend right then.  Now, however, he was concerned with Hermione, and whatever he said, he didn't want it to be about Ron.  A little hesitantly, he opened his mouth.

            "Hippogriff," Hermione said suddenly.

            Harry jumped slightly, then realized they were in front of the Fat Lady and that the portrait had just opened at the password.  She walked in and Harry moved to follow but didn't make it.

            An invisible hand clapped onto his mouth, swinging him around into the wall.  The portrait seemingly slammed on its own, much to the Fat Lady's dismay.  Before he had much of a chance to panic, a hand appeared, grabbing an invisible hood and revealing Draco Malfoy.

            "What do you think you're doing?!" Harry cried as Draco removed his hand from his mouth.

            "I've been looking for you everywhere," Draco said irritably, "We need to talk."

            "Well there are better ways of asking than assaulting me," Harry shot back.

            Draco ignored him.  He glanced around, still simply a floating head, then tugged Harry down the corridor.  "Look at this," he said, pulling out the letter that was meant for Dumbledore.

            Harry took it, reading over carefully.  Surprised, he glanced up at Draco.  "Where'd you get this?"

            "An owl didn't agree with the wind and flew into my window.  He had this."

            "So shouldn't you give it to Dumbledore?" Harry asked, as though it was the most sensible thing in the world, which it might have been.

            Draco didn't think so.  "And what, have him take it and do nothing?"

            Harry was confused.  "You don't know that."

            "I can take a guess.  None of them think we're ready," he insisted, "They all think we're too young.  We need to take this into our own hands."

            "But, Draco, we don't even know where to start."

            "We know as much as they would.  This is a gift, Harry," Draco said quietly, "The storm came on suddenly, just in time for the owl.  And it hit my window.  How can we ignore that?  We have to stop this now, while there's a chance."

            Harry frowned slightly, looking down at the letter.  He still wasn't sure.  "Let's ask Azar and James.  Then we can decide."

            "Fine then.  Let's get Azar first," Draco said as they hurried down the hall, "She should know where James is."

            "But she's in the Ravenclaw Tower.  How will we get in?"

            "I know the password," the Slytherin replied matter-of-factly, looking straight ahead.

            Harry slowed down.  "She...she told you the password?" he asked quietly.

            "God, you sound like a child," Draco scoffed, "So you were left out of something for once; get over it."

            Harry didn't feel at all like "getting over it", but was a little hurt at being called a child and so kept his mouth shut.  

            Draco quickly took off the cloak, knowing a floating head would attract unneeded attention.  They soon found themselves before a large stone pillar, out of place set in the stonewall.

            "Best to have the cloak on," Harry suggested.

            Draco looked slightly exasperated, but tossed the cloak over them both and said, "Judicious."  The pillar rolled out of its spot, revealing a staircase leading upward.  A little awkwardly, the two made it up the narrow passage and stepped into the Ravenclaw common room.

            Harry felt like just standing there and staring.  Azar hadn't been kidding about the common rooms being different.  There was, of course, the fact that everything was blue and bronze, but so much more.  The whole room was, for the most part, round.  The fireplace was in the middle of the room, round as the room and crackling merrily with flames.  A number of comfortable old armchairs and sofas circled it, various Ravenclaws occupying them.  All along the edges of the room were desks where quite a few people were busy doing their homework by torchlight.  Harry looked up as Draco glanced around for Azar.  It seemed the ceiling went on forever, coming off into a cone.  Two large skylights were set in it, splattered with rain and revealing the dark clouds that hung in the sky.  Harry wondered a moment where the dormitories could be, but a glance to his right answered that question.  There were two fine oak staircases zigzagging their way to fourteen doors, stacked in two rows of seven.

            "She's not here," Draco said suddenly.

            "What?" Harry asked, coming back from his observations.

            "She's not here.  She must be in her dormitory," Draco whispered, "This way."

            "You've been in her dormitory?!" Harry cried indignantly.

            Draco clapped a hand over Harry's mouth.  A few Ravenclaws glanced around in confusion, but shrugged the voice off.

            "You're far too touchy," Draco hissed, dragging Harry along up the staircase on the right.

            They entered the third door up, coming into a square room.  Inside were six four-poster beds with sapphire hangings.  Harry glanced around, spotting Azar lying on her bed and reading.  Even if she hadn't been there, he would have known which bed was hers with the stack of books and papers on the nightstand and Weird Sisters poster on the wall.  No one else was in the room.

            Quietly, the boys walked over to her, standing right next to her bed.  "Azar," Draco said quietly, "We need to talk."

            "Sure thing, just let me finish this page," she said, not in the least bit startled.

            "What, he sneaks in so often you don't even jump?" Harry said, still bitter about Draco's free reign.

            That made Azar jump.  "Harry?" she said, putting down the book and sitting up, "You're here, too?"

            "Yes," he said, taking off the cloak, "Why haven't you ever invited me into the Ravenclaw tower before?"

            "You never asked," she said, still a bit surprised.

            "Oh…okay then," Harry answered, suddenly feeling awkward.

            "He's been going off on that jealousy bit again," Draco put in, removing the cloak also, "Have you noticed that it seems to be a monthly thing for him?  If I didn't know better, I'd say he has PMS."

            "I do not!" Harry said, going a bit red, "And I'm not 'on that jealousy bit' again.  I have a right to ask some questions, don't I?"

            "Did you guys come in here to argue or did you have some ulterior motive in mind?" Azar asked, slightly amused.

            "We wanted to ask you about this," Draco said, thrusting Dumbledore's letter into her hand.

            Azar read it over quickly, then looked up at Draco and opened her mouth to ask something.  Draco answered first.

            "Owl collided with my window.  Read it.  Decided it was an Heir choice.  Want to go save the world before Dumbledore stops us," he said brokenly.

            "Why should he stop us?" Azar asked.

            Draco shrugged.  "I dunno.  They don't exactly think we're ready, after all.  But we are.  We can't miss this chance.  And we know the spell, after all."

            Azar glanced down at the letter again.  "Okay, let's go for it."

            Harry stared at her, slightly bug-eyed.  "Whatever happened to looking before you leap?"

            "It doesn't apply in fog, Harry legs.  Besides, I think Draco's right.  The group hasn't exactly been too pleased with us lately, but we are ready.  We should go."

            "After all," Draco added, almost venomously, "they almost had us ignore the book.  Adults aren't always right."

            "Well, they're not always wrong, either."

            Draco just ignored him.  "Do you know how to get into the Hufflepuff so we can talk to James?" he asked Azar.

            "Sure thing," she said, hopping up and heading for the door, "C'mon, onward ho!"

            Harry and Draco put on the invisibility cloak and quickly followed her out of the Ravenclaw common room.  After a number of twists and turns, they found themselves at the base of a staircase, looking at a closet beneath it.

            "You are joking, right?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

            Azar laughed.  "It's quite ingenious, actually," she said, "Just watch."

            She opened the door and revealed the inside of a closet.  "Nothing up my sleeve!"  Grinning, she closed it again.

            "The Isles," she said, "And presto change-o!"

            She opened the door and this time there were no closet innards.  Instead, there was a staircase that spiraled out of sight.

            "You two stay here," Azar said, "I'll take the cloak and go in and get James.  I'll be just a second."

            With that, Azar snatched up Draco's cloak and closed the closet door after her.  Draco and Harry mulled there for a while, a bit awkward.

            "When she says she'll be just a second, does she really mean it?" Draco asked after a while.

            Harry shrugged.  "Sometimes."

            Sighing, Draco sat on the floor.

            "About time," Harry scolded when Azar finally emerged, alone, "We looked pretty dodgy skulking about here."

            "Do you even know what it feels like to have a fifth year Hufflepuff prefect tell you off?" Draco added, clearly disgusted, "Bad enough she was an underclassman, but a Hufflepuff.  Honestly, these kids think too highly of themselves."

            Harry and Azar looked at him, amused.  Draco glanced at them, wondering what he'd missed.

            "Well, in any case," Azar said, getting back to the point, "he's not in there.  He's in the library."

            "How'd you find that out?" Harry asked as they trooped down the hall.

            "I just asked."

            "What, no one questioned the fact that an invisible person wanted to know where James was?" Draco said incredulously.

            "Honestly, haven't you ever tried to talk to someone who's engrossed by their studying?" she said matter-of-factly, "It's like hypnosis; they answer without questioning, or even looking up.  Of course, it's a lot more fun if they look up right after and have no idea who they were just talking to…"

            The three hurried on towards the library.  When they entered, it was pretty easy to find James.  There was a large group of second years all gathered at a table, apparently united in their efforts at writing a particularly hard Transfiguration essay.  James sat among them.

            "Hey, James," Azar said, walking up behind him.  All the other students looked up curiously.  They all looked fairly in awe at the three grand seventh years.  "Um, we need to talk to you about something important."

            All the second years whispered excitedly, gaping at James, who looked very pleased and very red.  He got up from his seat and followed the three to a lonely corner of the library.  Quickly, Draco explained the circumstances and let James read the letter.  For a long time, the Hufflepuff was in quiet thought, staring at the words.  Then he handed the parchment back to Draco.

            "Okay," James said, quiet but firm.

            Harry felt as if the world had just been pulled out from underneath him.  "What?!"

            "I want to go," James said, just as firm.

            "But…no second thoughts?  No questioning?" Harry stammered.

            "I want to go," James repeated.  There was something in the young boy's eyes that made it clear he was going, with or without the other three.  Harry couldn't for the life of him understand why the timid Hufflepuff had suddenly become so determined to risk his life.  For the first time, he really feared that they were rubbing off on the kid.

            "Then it's agreed," Azar said briskly, "We leave tonight."

            Harry's eyes widened.  "Tonight?"

            "The sooner the better," Draco said firmly.

            "Exactly.  Right now, we'll go back to our dormitories and get ready.  And be sure to pack only necessities," Azar asserted, "We don't know how long this'll take.  What about food?"

            "I'll sneak some from the kitchens," Harry said, pleased by the fact that no one else seemed to know how to get there.

            "Good, that's done.  Draco and Harry, be sure to get your cloaks, and your brooms.  You definitely have the fastest models.  At eight, James and I will be sure to be waiting outside our towers.  Harry—"

            "I'll come get you," Harry interrupted.

            Draco sneezed something that sounded oddly like "PMS", causing Harry to give him a quick glare.

            "And you'll pick James up, Draco," he said firmly.

            "Harry—" Azar began to say.

            "No arguing!" Harry quickly interrupted, "Besides, Slytherin and Hufflepuff common rooms are much closer than Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."

            Azar smiled slightly.  "I was only going to ask you to be sure to get some flasks of water."

            "And alcohol," Draco added, "Wine if you can manage, but anything on hand will do.  Got to have some way of getting Azar tipsy and taking advantage of her, haven't I?"

            Harry gave him a dark look, clearly not amused.

****

            Harry entered the Gryffindor common room a little unsure.  Hermione had probably been a little worried at his sudden disappearance.  When he looked around, however, he realized she probably hadn't even noticed he was gone.  Ron and Hermione sat on the sofa before the fire.  Hermione had her head on Ron's shoulder and they seemed to be talking quietly and earnestly.  Then Harry saw Ron's hand appear and rest upon Hermione's shoulder.

            Without saying a word, he headed up to the dormitory.

            It was 8:36 pm when the doors of the Great Hall seemingly opened by themselves.  If someone had been there right then, and if the opening doors hadn't peaked their suspicions, the sudden yelp as four people collided would have given them great cause of concern.

            "Watch it!" Draco hissed.

            "Watch what?" Harry said indignantly, "You're invisible!"

            "Then listen it!"

            Azar snorted and Harry just decided to concede.  They closed the doors quietly behind them and started making their way across the Hogwarts grounds, planning on reaching the Forbidden Forest before taking flight.  The wind was still howling but thankfully the rain had stopped, for the moment at least.

            "Draco," Harry whispered, "Watch it, your broomstick's visible."

            "Oh sorry.  Forgot Azar wasn't under here with me."

            "Sod off," Harry said angrily, "I make one innocent remark—"

            "Along with a number of suspicious ones," Draco interjected.

            "Not to mention a face-to-face jealous confrontation," Azar added, grinning.

            Harry didn't answer, preferring to steam in private.  They reached the darkness of the forest and took the cloaks off for a moment.  Azar shifted the bag hanging from her shoulder and checked James' in the process to see that it was tightly closed.  Harry and Draco, out of habit, checked over their brooms to be sure they were in good condition.  After a long silence and much shifting, they stood and looked at each other, feeling awkward.

            "Ready?" Azar asked, clutching to her bag.

            Draco and Harry nodded, but James did so with a strange finality.  Harry couldn't help but feel that this kid before him wasn't James.  He could tell by the look on Azar's face that she had noticed it, too.

            In silence, they boarded their brooms, Azar and Harry on one, James and Draco on the other.  They once again donned the invisibility cloaks.

            "James, your foot is showing," Azar said gently over the sudden rush of wind through the trees.

            With a slight movement, James' foot went out of sight.

            "How will we keep in sight of each other?" Draco asked, almost worriedly.

            "We'll fly above the clouds," Harry said, "Then we can take off the cloaks.  Do you have a compass, Draco?"

            The boy answered in the negative.  "Then be sure to keep me in sight," Harry said, "Azar will be giving me directions.  Ready?"

            "Ready," three voices answered.

            They kicked off from the ground, soaring above the trees.  That's when they realized how strong the wind really was.  The invisibility cloaks did little good, the riders trying to keep them on through the gale.  Harry and Draco found it almost impossible to move forward, the wind tossing them from side to side.

            "Back down!" Harry yelled at Draco, who willingly complied.

            They found themselves once again in the Forbidden Forest, winded in every sense of the word.

            "Now what?" Draco gasped, his eyes stinging from the wind.

            "We walk," Azar answered grimly, "At least until we're out of sight of the castle.  Then we'll have to fly straight up and hope the wind stops with the clouds."

            "Any of you believe in bad omens?" Harry asked weakly.

            "No, not really," Azar smiled, leading the way.

            Not a little reluctantly, the other Heirs followed, the Four figures disappearing into the forest of innumerable black-trunked trees.

~*~*~

A/N:  I did it!  I finally finished to this point!!! *dances*  That was my goal last chapter, but that thing was too long, and this, too!  19 pages.  Man, is it better or worse to have long chapters?  Do tell me.

            Bit of explanation of that quote up there.  'Tis a bit of a creed (har, har) of mine now and as I was finishing this chapter up, all I listened to was my Creed cd.  That line just hit me as "Man, that's what this chapter is about!", so I wanted to put it up.  There you are. ^_^

            Will Juniata and Remus escalate into something more? *shrug*  Are Ron and Hermione finally back together? *shrug*  Will Ady ever give a straight answer to any question dealing with plot? *shrug* ^_^  James acting a bit strange, eh?  ^_^  Yes, well, he's got a big part to play.  Don't know why I'm telling you this, but I feel like it.  Ooh, the next chapter.  *stomach does flip-flops*  I've been waiting AGES to get to this point, and now it's here!  I'm so excited! ^_^

            Wow, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU everyone who reviewed!  I'm so overwhelmed, and do know that it helps a lot.  Reviews keep me in line, stop me from posting stupid scenes or writing things that shouldn't be in (or should).  Question everything I write, truly do!  It'll really help me in the end.

**jona:**  Heehee, yeah.  If anyone has a reason to be paranoid, it's Harry.  And hurry with your own writing!  Thanks!

**Sandrine Black:**  ^_^  Thanks!

**Allison:**  Er… Ron's not done. *giggles happily*  *sings*  How could I be so daft/ as not to say it was a draft?/ I'd say my writing skill/ is making way downhill! ^_^  I'm too happy.  Ah, thanks!  It was a pretty good review considering you were brain dead. ~_^

**Trisiana:**  LOL  Ah, I love Ron.  I'm just trying to knock him about as much as I do everyone else.  Besides, all this is VERY important. ^_^  Ron plays a lovely big part, and I'll dare ANYONE not to adore him after they read that part (which I won't post for a long time… *sigh*).  Thanks!

**sammi_chan:**  lol, Thanks.  Er…  *thinks*  May be a long while before we know more about Ron and Perc…

**Colibi:**  lol, Thanks.  Yeah, I wasn't sure if all would understand that bit.  Harry's missing robes was Azar's revenge for his comments. ^_^

**Sonata:**  Ah, thanks. ^_^  Huzzah for plastic slinkys!!!

**Mystery:**  Whoa, an hour?  Heehee, I'm pleased. ^_^  And I'm going to try to write more of the fic.  After all, I HAVE to finish it before book 5 gets out, and that's coming soon!

**yerbroham:**  Yeah, love-shmuv, it's gonna be toned down, no worries.  Thank you so much!

**Caterfly:**  Well, I answered all your questions before, so there's only one thing to say:  Thanks!

**sammi_chan:**  lol, Thank you!  No, nothing's happened in my family.  I've just been overly overwhelmed by stupid school junk. (*shakes fist at internship teacher*)  Ah yes, very happy!  Being inspiration just makes me feel like dancing!  Erm, I like the LotR movie, and I'm determined to some day read the books. *sigh*  Another negative of school:  zero personal reading time.

**Gary Potter:**  Lol, your name cracked me up!!! ^_^  Thanks so much!

**Moon Warrior:**  Oh goodness, don't apologize.  I've had almost no time to read others fics, for which I am very ashamed.  Lol, like I'd tell you whether it'll be Draco or Ron!  Sorry, dear. ^_^  *cough*  Erm… *considers whether or not to tell*  Well, Draco does get a "cuddle".  Won't say from who, except that it's not Ron. ^_^  Ooh, believe me, dear Mundungus gets something far worse than a kick in the pants… ^_^  Thanks!!!

            Well, soon I'll get the next one up, so no worries there.  I'll be gone for a good majority of Christmas Break, so no updates then…  We'll see.

            Thank you all so very much!

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	19. The First Holiday

Chapter 19:  The First Holiday

            "I don't know Hermione…" Ron said uneasily, his arm around her shoulder, "It's one thing not to see James or…Draco or even Azar all day.  But Harry?"

            Hermione nestled up to him, too exhausted after the Halloween feast to think clearly.  "What if he's already in bed?"

            Ron shook his head.

            "I checked.  In fact, I don't know if he was even here last night."

            Hermione sat up slightly, a bit troubled.  "Have you felt anything from any of them lately?"

            Ron shrugged.  "I don't know.  I've gotten used to ignoring the little nuances that always crop up.  Besides, I've been a bit…distracted."

            Hermione sat up straight now, closing her eyes to concentrate.  "Ron, I can't sense them at all!  Any of them."

            As always happened when Hermione showed worry, Ron began to feel panicky.  "Do you think we should go to Dumbl—"

            He didn't get a chance to finish.  Both he and Hermione froze, their eyes widening with terror.

            "Draco," Hermione breathed.

            "Harry," Ron said, standing sharply, "Hermione, something's happening, something big!  They're terrified!"

            "But it's so faint!" Hermione said, standing up quickly by his side, "They can't be even near Hogwarts!"

            Ron was breathing heavily now, his eyes darting about the room.  "What do we do?"

            "You go talk with Dumbledore," Hermione said urgently, "I'm going to find them."

            "What?!" Ron cried in a mixture of dismay and confusion.

            "I'm an animagus; I can fly out there and get close enough so to know where they are.  They need help, Ron," she whispered earnestly.

            "No," Ron said sternly, "I'll grab a broomstick and come with you."

            Hermione shook her head.  "I can fly about as fast as a Firebolt, Ron.  We don't have time to be any slower.  Besides, Dumbledore should be able to help.  He'll know what to do."

            Ron didn't want to agree but knew that any argument would be very weak when compared to Hermione's intellect.  Reluctantly, he nodded.

            "Okay, get to Dumbledore as quick as you can," she said hurriedly, rushing to the window and opening it, "I'll fly as fast as my wings will allow."

            "Hermione," Ron said, following her.  She turned to him expectantly.  Quietly, he spoke up.  "Be careful."

            Before she could reply, he leaned forward and kissed her.  It seemed like such a long time ago they had kissed last…  Reluctantly, Ron pulled away.

            Hermione looked up at him solemnly.  "I will," she said quietly.

            Then, turning to the window, she morphed into a hawk and soared out into the darkness.  Ron watched her disappear into the night sky, then he turned to leave the common room and go to Dumbledore's office.  He didn't even make it to the portrait hole.

            Ron gave a cry and nearly fell to his knees.  Pain…  Harry was in terrible pain.  

            Instantly, his plans changed.  He practically flew out of the common room and headed to a statue of a one-eyed witch.  He didn't have time to go to Dumbledore and now had every intention of finding Harry, Draco, and Azar even before Hermione did.  But first, he had to get off Hogwarts grounds…

****

            "Harry!" Draco yelled, "Where are you?"

            "I'm still right over here!" Harry called back, "Honestly, Draco, I told you:  if we change directions, I'll tell you!"

            "I don't like flying blindly.  We've flown at least an hour like this.  Isn't it dark enough to take the cloaks off?"

            "Well, if you actually listened to me and hadn't kept turning anywhere you pleased, we would be there by now.  Besides, if it's dark enough to take them off, we won't be able to see each other anyways."

            "We will if we use lumos," Draco shot back, clearly determined to win this one.

            "And what would that look like to muggles, Draco?"

            "Harry," Azar said gently, "if anyone sees us, they'll think airplane, star, or UFO.  Somehow I doubt three wizards and a witch flying by on two brooms will ever come to mind.  And besides, it's Halloween; muggles are nuts for this kind of 'folklore' stuff."

            "All right, fine then," Harry relented, "Take the cloak off, Draco.  James, you use lumos with your wand.  That goes for you, too, Azar."

            Two bright specks appeared in the night sky, soaring fast, though no one was awake to see them.

            "Turn a bit more to your left, Harry," Azar said, glancing at the compass, "We're getting near.  We should be there within the hour."

            Harry felt his stomach begin to churn.  So this was it…

****

            Harry walked around in the darkness, his eyes searching for any sign of movement.  It wasn't easy in a dark forest where, with every breeze, shadows danced on the ground.  He shivered slightly, tugging his cloak in tighter.  The tip of his nose was feeling a bit numb and he was constantly rubbing his fingers to keep them warm.  Not exactly what he'd planned to be doing Halloween morning.  In fact, he hadn't had anything planned but sleep.  How the best-laid plans go awry…

            He paused a moment, gazing up at the half moon.  One would have thought its light would be helpful, but all it did was stop his eyes from adjusting to the dark.  Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

            Giving a small yelp, he spun around to find no one there.  Harry whipped out his wand, holding it out straight, looking about frantically for any movement.

            "Whoa, relax, Harry," Draco Malfoy said as he took off his invisibility cloak, "It's me."

            "Don't sneak up on a guy like that!" Harry scolded, pocketing his wand, "And why are you wearing that thing?"

            Draco shrugged.  "It gives a bit more warmth.  And I always feel safer with it on."

            "Ah, the handy security blanket."

            Draco laughed, though it was a bit strained.  He didn't particularly feel like laughing considering the circumstances.  "So, seen anything yet?"

            "Nothing but shadows," Harry answered.

            "Same here.  Is it just me, or does skulking on the outskirts of Liddesdale seem like a pointless search?"

            "Urg, don't ask me," Harry sighed, "Azar says she has a 'feeling'."

            "Well, I guess she's the Seer.  I'll see you around."

            Draco put his invisibility cloak back on and headed away.  After another moment of rest, Harry too continued his search.  He was really beginning to wish he'd pushed his let's-not-do-this instinct.

            Azar Zundel walked determinable through the thick forest, not even feeling the cold.  She really wasn't sure why they'd split up.  It seemed better at the time to cover more ground, but now she thought it would have been best to stick together.  Considering she had been looking for the others for the past half hour to no avail, she probably was right.  Reaching a bit of a clearing, she looked about carefully.  The night seemed especially dark despite the moon and she found herself relying more on her ears than her eyes.

            A twig snapped sharply behind her.  She spun around to find a masked figure.  Apparently, she caught him off guard, but he quickly pointed a wand at her.  Before even giving the action a thought, she gave him a swift kick to the stomach and, as he doubled over, struck him across the head with her foot.  He fell and didn't move.

            Azar breathed deeply for a while, then put down her fists from the ready position.

            "Wait a second," she said suddenly, her hand going into her robe pocket and withdrawing something, "I have a wand!  Honestly, sometimes I wonder where my brain goes."

            "Azar!"

            She turned to see Harry rushing out from behind some trees, looking almost panicked.

            "Are you okay?" he said, a little breathless, "I felt a jolt of fear."

            "Surprise.  And I'm fine," she said, dusting off her robes and jerking a thumb at the motionless figure beside her, "Just had a close encounter with one of Voldemort's henchmen."

            Harry stared at the Death Eater in shock.  "But the letter said he was traveling alone…"

            "Apparently plans changed," Azar said grimly.

            "I don't like this," he said, "It was bad enough going after Voldemort alone, but with a forest full of Death Eaters… Maybe we should—"

            "What, turn back?" Azar said indignantly, "After we've come so far?"

            "Searching aimlessly for someone who may not even be here isn't exactly progress," Harry said tactfully, "Things aren't looking up, Azar."

            She didn't look pleased, but gave a great sigh.  "You may have something of a point…  But I don't like giving up."

            "It's not giving up as long as we try again," Harry assured her, "C'mon, let's find James."

            "I-I'm right here," came a quivering voice.

            They turned to see James stepping from the shadowy forest, but he wasn't alone.  His face was contorted with pain and with good reason, for his arm was twisted agonizingly behind his back by a pale hand with fingers like spider's legs.

            A cruel smile crept onto the Dark Lord's lips.  "Well what do we have here?" he said mockingly.

            Azar's wand was up instantly, followed quickly by Harry's, both pointed straight at Voldemort.

            "Let him go," Azar said tersely, her eyes slitted.

            Voldemort let out a cold, high laugh.  "How forward you are.  Might I know the name of one so ready to be rid of her life, and the lives of her friends?"

            James cried out, Voldemort giving his arm another twist.  Azar didn't so much as blink.

            "Azar Zundel," she said loudly, "Muggleborn and Heir of Ravenclaw."

            "Ah yes, an Heir," Voldemort said, almost laughing, "Yes, now I remember you.  The girl that broke my wand… I should have known.  Harry Potter…  I have known you were Gryffindor's for a long time, something I am sure you know by now.  Strange, though, how James is here.  The prophecy, after all, spoke of Heirs of equal age."  He took the boy's chin in his free hand, tilting it upwards.  "It is a shame Quirrel did not kill him six years ago.  Shows where mercy leads you when it comes to children.  But then, Quirrel was weak."

            His eyes fell on Harry as he said this, mocking.  Harry clenched his teeth, trying to control his anger.

            "And to think," Voldemort went on, "it was thanks to me that you received your scars, your 'marks of Zeus.'"

            "Not mine," Azar said through clenched teeth, "Unless you cursed my bike so the chain would fall off as I started down the tallest hill in the neighborhood.  If so, then I have another bone to pick with you."

            "The girl thinks herself a comedian," Voldemort sneered, "How amusing…  Well, let us see if you find this entertaining:  I meant for you to be here tonight."

            Harry felt his stomach do a somersault, his mouth going dry.

            "Indeed, it was a slight nuisance to be sure that every Death Eater knew of my 'expedition'," the Dark Lord sneered, "but necessary so that the spy could inform you of my whereabouts.  My plan seems to have succeeded.  Though I must say, I would have expected more discretion from Dumbledore.  Only a fool in haste would not realize that surely I would choose to Apparate over traveling by foot.  And to leave the Four on their own…"

            Azar's face burned but her gaze didn't falter.  "Who says we're alone?"

            Voldemort gave another high laugh.  "Do you take me for a fool, girl?  A simple detector charm shows that there are only four wands in these woods that do not belong to me or my companions.  But where, I wonder, is the Heir of Slytherin?"

            Harry and Azar didn't say a thing, their wands still pointed at the Dark Lord.  Calculatingly, Voldemort reached his free hand into James' robe pocket, taking from it a wand.

            "I wonder," he said slowly, bringing the wand up and placing it against James' throat, "how it would feel to be killed with your own wand?"

            James' eyes grew wide and he hardly dared to breathe.  Harry and Azar gripped their wands tighter.

            "I ask you again, where is the Heir of Slytherin?"

            "We don't know," Harry said tensely.

            Voldemort's expression darkened.  "I do not tolerate defiance."

            He gave James' arm another wrench, and the boy cried out, tears spilling from his eyes.

            Before Harry or Azar could even think to react, another voice cried, "Expelliarmus!"

            James' wand was thrown from Voldemort's grip as he himself was hurled to the ground.  The boy quickly snatched up his wand, scrambling to his feet.  He pointed his wand firmly at Voldemort, supporting it with both hands, his right shaking still from the pain.  To James' right and Harry's left, Draco pulled off his invisibility cloak, also targeting the Dark Lord.

            Slowly, Voldemort stood, facing Draco.  He was not one to show his panic, gazing coldly at the boy who just attacked him.  "Draco Malfoy:  I should have expected nothing less.  Malfoys always seek power, though normally not so foolishly.  Strange that the son stands here while the father lies useless."

            Harry realized the meaning of this with a jolt and turned, looking at the crumpled Death Eater.  Draco followed his gaze, his face going pale.

            "Father?" he whispered.

            "He's not dead, Draco," Azar said firmly, "Just knocked out."

            "You should be so lucky," Voldemort cried venomously, whipping out his wand and pointing it at the Heir of Slytherin.

            Without thinking, Harry yelled out:

            "Bellicum!"

            A white light burst from the end of Harry's wand, striking Voldemort and holding fast.  Voldemort screamed, as though in deepest pain, but Harry held tight to his wand.  "Draco!" he said, "It's your turn!  Let's finish this."

            "Plagae!"

            Another white beam flashed from Draco's wand, connecting to the Dark Lord in a thick rope.  Azar held out her wand.

            "Technae!"

            Again, another string of light linked itself to Voldemort.  James stepped forward.

            "Aspicio!"

            When the fourth beam hit the man, a great white light erupted from the center point, blinding the Four for a moment.  When the light dimmed some, they saw Voldemort on his hands and knees, crying out with pain.  Around him was a swirling hemisphere made of electrical white light, its borders created by the wandtips of the Heirs.  As they watched, the semi-transparent barrier changed colors, from white to yellow, causing Voldemort to yell even more violently.

            Suddenly, in a burst of adrenaline, Voldemort rushed to his feet, running to the barrier wall, right at James.  He struck it and was halted, the wall's color rippling from the impact.  But it stood firm.

            Voldemort breathed deep, trying to ignore the pain, and glared around at the circle, trying to see clearly.  His scarlet eyes fell on Harry as the yellow enclosure faded into blue.  Struggling, the creature lifted his wand.

            "Avada Ke—"

            "No!" James yelled, plunging a hand into the circle of green light and grabbing hold of the back of Voldemort's robes, distracting him.  The boy cried out, eyes watering as burning pain engulfed his arm.  But he refused to let go.

            "Release me!" Voldemort howled in anger, grabbing blindly for the boy's hand.

            The beast got hold of his target and, before anyone had time to react, pulled James in with him.  The young screams that filled the air seemed to reverberate through Harry's eardrums, until all that seemed to exist was that horrifying cry of pain.

            "Pull off the spell!  Pull off the spell!" Draco cried, terrified.

            "NO!" James yelled, struggling to get to his feet through the pain.

            Voldemort again was raising his wand, this time pointing it at Draco.  Gritting his teeth, James launched himself forward, knocking the dark wizard to the ground.  The sapphire cage now turned to scarlet and the young boy's determination wavered a moment.  He cried out in pain.

            "James, we're pulling the spell off!" Azar yelled.

            "No!" James cried back, his eyes clenched tight, "He'll get out!  Finish it!"

            "But if we do it," Harry said, suddenly grasping the situation, "James, you'll—"

            "I said finish it!"

            "No, James!" Azar said angrily, "There's more than one way out of this!"

            "Please do it…" James said, eyes pleading, "I can't take this…  Just do it now."

            Voldemort kicked James, sending him across the enclosure toward Harry.  The wall changed then from red to emerald.  Tears streamed down the young Hufflepuff's face, and even though he still tried to control them, whimpers escaped his mouth.

            "James, please, let us stop this!" Azar yelled, trying to hold back her tears.

            Harry looked at her, then back at James.  He was so close…  Before he could think twice about it, Harry reached into the circle.  His nerves all jumped at once, screaming at him to bring his arm out, but he ignored them.  Just a few more centimeters…his fingers were touching James'.

            Suddenly, a pale hand with long fingers grabbed Harry's wrist.  He looked up, seeing a maniacal grin on Voldemort's face.  Then the Dark Lord tugged forward, Harry's head plunging through the green light.

            His mind was filled with one explosive thought:  pain.  It clutched at him, held him, strangled him.  Nothing else existed, and it seemed nothing else ever would.  Suddenly, a smaller, warmer hand grabbed onto his arm, and Harry felt himself pushed out of the circle.

            The walls turned from a vibrant green to violet then; the last phase of the spell.

            "NOW!!!" James screamed, holding on tight to Voldemort's wand and pointing his own upwards.

            Realizing there was no use arguing, the four Heirs, James firmest of all, cried in one voice, "Mortalis abiciectum!"

            From within the very center of the hemisphere, an orb of bright violet light quickly formed and suddenly exploded, knocking the Three to the ground.  Then all light faded and the forest held only silence.

            Slowly, Harry stood up, gazing about him.  He looked down at his hands, one, the one that had reached for James, burned and blistering.  Again, he looked at everything around him, confusion coming to his blank eyes.  As if in a shock, he walked, almost towards Azar, but then farther behind her.  She sat up, curling her legs up beside her, staring at nothing in surprise.

            Draco stood also.  His eyes fell upon the two figures lying motionless on the ground, one so small…  Then he saw something that caused his stomach to plunge.  The large figure moved.  Voldemort stirred, then sat up, then even stood, facing Draco.  Azar watched this in horror, unable to move or speak.  Harry didn't see a thing, his back to the scene, staring at the ground in thought and running a hand through his hair.  Voldemort seemed as much in shock as the Three, gazing around slowly.  Then his eyes fell on Draco, and they narrowed.  Slowly, he raised his wand.

            "Avada Kedavra!" the Dark Lord cried with great ferocity.

            The green light sped towards Draco, frozen with horror.  There was no blocking it, no dodging it.

            "Draco!" Azar screamed.  Harry looked around frantically.

            Suddenly, just before it struck the terrified boy, the green light split into two.  The two beams swerved around Draco, almost as if with a mind of their own, colliding into two trees with a crash.  Creaking, their roots pulling up, the trees fell down, down, finally slamming into the forest floor.

            Draco stared at Voldemort in shock, and the man simply returned the look.  Then slowly, the Dark Lord looked down at his hands in disbelief and horror.  He looked back at Draco once more, and then with a small pop, the man was gone.

            For a long time, the three Heirs were silent, in shock.  It was Draco who first woke from the reverie.  He looked around at the others.  Azar still sat on the ground, her legs bent so that she almost sat upon them, her hand resting on an ankle and her eyes wide and wretched.  Harry stood a ways off, again turned away from them, his head bowed in grief.  And then there was James…

            Slowly, Draco walked over to the limp form of the Heir of Hufflepuff.  He looked into the young face, its eyes wide and tears shining upon its cheeks.  Draco knelt beside him, checking the wrist for a pulse and finding none.  Taking a deep breath, he passed a hand over the child's face, closing its eyes, then gently drying the tears.

            "Rest in peace, little badger," he said softly

            Azar jolted at these words, looking at Draco.  Her eyes grew wider and wider, her mouth gaping in horror.  Slowly, then faster and faster she shook her head, mouthing again and again, "No."

            "Oh God, no…" suddenly escaped her lips, "No!  Little badger… no, no.  Little badger!"

            Draco looked over at her, shocked.  Slowly, she stood and then she practically flew over to Draco, her eyes fixed on James' motionless countenance.

            "What have I done?" she whispered.

            To Draco's shock, Azar suddenly took James' body in her arms, holding it tight to her, and wept.

            "I'm sorry, James; I'm sorry!" she cried, shaking her head, "I didn't realize…   I didn't know!  Forgive me, James…  It's all my fault."

            Draco stared, not knowing what to say or do, trapped between terror and tears.  Slowly, he reached out a hand and touched Azar's arm.

            "C'mon, Azar," he said softly, "There's nothing you can do for him."

            "Why can't I stop it, Draco?" she asked quietly, her gaze still upon James, "Am I meant to suffer, to live through the pain twice?"

            Suddenly, Draco thought he might understand.  He looked at her earnestly, taking her by the shoulders.  "Azar, did you See this?" he said quickly, "Was this the 'forest nightmare'?"

            Azar stared at him woefully, then slowly shook her head.  "No…  No, that had green light.  That was many…  But I Saw this, too…  The purple light, a white face, red eyes, screams… 'Rest in peace, little badger…'  Why didn't I understand?"

            The forest was silent again, Draco trying to help but not knowing how.

            "Here, Azar," Draco said, gently reaching out to take James, "I'll carry him."

            "No," she said hopelessly, "This is a burden no one can relieve me of."

            Uncertain, Draco turned to Harry, still standing alone, his head bowed low.  "You okay, Harry?  Your face and arm look pretty burnt."

            "I'm fine.  Just…  Just fine."

            Again, Draco looked back and forth between his friends, Harry staring stiffly at the ground, Azar mournfully holding James' limp figure.

            "We beat him, didn't we?" he said, as if trying only to assure himself, "At least that's something to be happy about!"

            "No we didn't," Azar answered, her words stinging, "We failed."

            "What do you mean?  He's gone!"  Draco indicated to the spot where Voldemort had stood, as if to prove his point.

            "He Disapparated," Azar spat, "Didn't you see?!  He was alive and well!  We failed!  James died for nothing…"

            Silence prevailed, Draco suddenly without a desire to see the bright side.  After a while, Azar stood up, still holding James.  Her frame, weak from all they'd suffered through, shook with the effort to hold him, but she didn't let go.  The small figure hung limply in her arms.  "There's nothing more we can do.  We should go back to Hogwarts."

            Draco nodded dejectedly in agreement.  "Come on, Harry," he said quietly, "Let's get our brooms."

            "Could you lead me?" Harry answered without moving, his words hollow.

            "What?"

            "I…" Harry paused as tears streamed down his cheeks, his eyes fixed blankly to a spot on the ground.

            "I can't see…"

****

            "Something's happened," Hermione kept repeating over and over in her mind, "Something horrible has happened."

            She flew as fast as she could, her eyes straining against the darkness.  The terror had faded long ago, but it was replaced by sorrow.  She felt it from all three of them now.  The feeling was so strong, she knew they were very near and flew down to the ground.  She quickly turned back into her human form, looking around the thinly forested area.

            "Draco!" she called, "Harry!  Azar!  Where are you?"

            "Hermione?"

            Jumping slightly, she turned to find probably the last person she expected to see.

            "Ron?" she gaped, "Wha…how?"

            "Harry was in pain, so I had to come," Ron said.

            "But…how did you get here before I did?" Hermione asked, still confused.

            "They weren't too far; I was able to get an idea of where they were.  Besides," he said, going quiet, "pain is stronger than fear…"

            "Have you not found them?" she asked.

            "No, but I haven't been calling out like you were.  Do think we should or is it too dangerous?"

            "I don't care, we just have to find them."

            "Not if we find you first."

            Ron and Hermione spun around to see Draco take off his invisibility cloak, walking up to them.  Ron instantly stiffened.

            "We heard you calling," Draco explained before they asked, "We had to be sure it was safe, that it wasn't Death Eaters, that's why I was wearing the cloak."

            There was a heaviness to his voice that sent dread through Hermione's system.  "What happened, Draco?"

            "James is dead," he said quietly, not looking at her.

            Hermione put her hand to her mouth, feeling numb.  Ron's eyes grew wide.       "There's more.  Harry's blind.  He's also burned pretty bad.  I didn't know how to treat him, and Azar…she's not really herself.  She won't put James down, and I know she'll collapse soon if she doesn't.  We need help," Draco admitted.

            "Where are they?" Ron asked hoarsely.

            Draco didn't answer, just turning and leading the way.  Ron and Hermione hurried, trying in vain to see ahead of them, but Draco walked as though he didn't want to go any farther.  They came to an area that seemed to have more shadows than all the rest.  There stood Azar, James still in her arms.  Her knees shook with the effort to stand up.  Harry sat under a tree, staring blankly at his hands, two brooms at his side.  As soon as he saw them, Ron stopped, feeling as though something was suddenly lodged in his throat.  Hermione didn't say anything for a long while, closing her eyes slowly to get rid of the weight upon her heart.

            "Harry," she finally said gently, "Azar.  We're here.  Ron and I came."

            Azar looked up, her eyes shining.  Harry didn't move.  Feeling as though his feet were made of lead, Ron walked over to Azar.

            "I'll take him," he said huskily, trying to keep his voice from quivering.

            Azar shook her head.

            "You can't hold him forever, Azar," Hermione send gently, walking over, "Let me lay him down."

            "No," Azar whispered, "No, you can't do that."

            Slowly, struggling with each movement, Azar got to her knees, gently placing James on the ground.  She removed her arms from around him, then slowly got back to her feet.  Hermione gently placed an arm around her shoulder, comforting her.  Ron, feeling a bit dazed, walked over to Harry, kneeling by his side.

            "Here, let me take a look at that," Ron said, carefully taking Harry's burnt arm.

            Harry winced, but didn't make a noise.  Ron gazed at the skin, raw and shining, unsure of what to do.

            "Are you okay?" he finally asked.

            "I was so close," Harry whispered, "Just a centimeter more and I could have saved him…"

            "Harry, no," Ron said firmly, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Do not go blaming yourself.  It wasn't your fault."

            Harry nodded slowly, his face as raw and shining as his arm.  "I guess I already received my punishment, so why condemn myself further?"

            Ron opened his mouth but nothing came out.  He couldn't think of anything to say.

            "Ron," Hermione whispered, indicating him to come over to her and Draco.

            Ron gave Harry a comforting pat then walked over to where she waited.

            "They need more help than we can give them," Hermione said quietly, "And there's no way we can get back on the brooms…not with James."

            "I'll go back to the school and get help," Ron said quickly, "The only other choice would be to leave James, and we're not doing that."

            Hermione nodded firmly.  "I'll take care of them best I can."

            Ron turned to leave but paused a moment.  Draco was looking at the ground solemnly, as though he hadn't heard a word.  Hesitatingly, Ron reached a hand out to place on his shoulder but stopped.  It hovered there a moment, and then Ron withdrew his hand without having so much as brushed Draco's cloak.  Without a word, he hurried off out of sight.

            Determinably, Hermione turned back to Harry and Azar.  After a while, Draco moved from his spot, but only farther away from the others.  Hermione was there now, he didn't need to be the strong one any more.  He stole out of sight, leaning one hand heavily against a tree and burying his face in the other.  He was still there when the sky started to fade to a dull gray, and the professors arrived.

~*~*~

A/N:     I'd forgotten how hard that was to write until I had to read it…  I'm sure more than a couple of you saw that coming.  It had to be done…

            Many thanks to Caterfly, my beta-reader for this chapter and a good one at that. (Notice how that one area we argued fervently over, the one I simply would not budge on, was…well, budged? ^_^)  That made the LotR line wait just fly by.  

            Tomorrow I am off to Hawaii, but I am taking my laptop with me and so shall hopefully get to writing the next chapter. (Which won't be as easy as this one since I don't have a bit of it written…)  Goodness, I'm almost not even sure of where to go.  I know where I want to go but how to get there…  Hm.

            Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter 18!!!

**Wishstar:**  Thank you!  And thank you, Lady Grizz. ^_^  lol, PMS, that would suck.  Merry Christmas to you, too!

**Starry:**  Thanks!  But do write your own work!  It's really great to get stuff up on ffn and get great reviews! ^_^

**Puddles:**  Just what I was going for.  Thanks!

**Jim:**  Thanks!  I'll try. ^_^

**jona:  ***sniffles*  That chokes me up every time, especially coming from such an author as yourself. ^_^  Thank you so much!

**Naralina:**  Yeah, they are.  And they will find out how much so later, next chapter, and even a bit more long after that.  No, in June 1992, Harry was still 11.  It would be a month before he was 12, thus he was 12 in "the year of the killer diary".  Er…I didn't remember the shape of the Gryff common room, oh well. ^_^  And I guess I need to reread book 4, because I don't remember mention of the entrance.  And Allison, for all the great ideas you've given me, for this one I must say:  Darn you!!!  If it weren't for that idea, I wouldn't have been tearing my hair out like that!  I hadn't even planned on sticking in that last bit with Ron and Herm coming in.  *sigh*  You don't even know what that put me through.  And no spiteful glares; YOU're going to Europe!  Yes, forest nightmare revelation comes in…mm, right after Christmas I believe.  Thanks!

**Jeanne:**  lol ^_^  Thanks!

**Liliana-Suger:**  Thanks!!!

**Moon Warrior:**  lol  *makes a face*  Ewwww…  That is a mental picture I could have seriously done without!  And don't worry, he gets worse than torture. ^_^  Thanks!

**Caterfly:**  lol, chica, you're too funny. ^_^  Thanks for the help!

**KingJasbon:**  No, Draco isn't related to Voldemort. *shudders*  ^_^  But sure, and thanks!

**PrincessForever:**  Mm, I've been trying to get my chars. developed well.  Guess it's something to remember. ^_^  And no, it's not from the Bible (not even close, unless you are a very strange person… ^_^) It's from the movie Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.  My history teacher showed it as a joke my sophomore year, and those wise words have been with me ever since. ^_^  Thank you very much.

**abbey:**  *quivers*  Girl, you're going to kill me with those hints about Magice's suffering!!!!!  Girl, write that will ya?!  Thanks for the review, though.

            Well, that is all, I believe.  I've been having fun writing little scenes for a new fanfic, that shall appear after this one is done.  I'm trying to get really down on myself with this one because I HAVE to finish it before OoP comes out! (Which hopefully shall be soon! *dances*)  So chastise me all you want to get it done, I need it!

            Happy Holidays to all of you!

            And be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	20. The Promise

Chapter 20:  The Promise

            "Padfoot, stop!  Now!"

            Remus trailed hopelessly after his indomitable friend.  He'd barely got out the words, "Now don't panic, but Harry's in the hospital—" before Sirius was practically sprinting down the halls of Hogwarts.

            "Explain later, Moony!" Sirius called back at his friend.

            "No, now!  Sirius, it's either stop here or be stopped by Madam Pomfrey.  You know she won't let you in.  Besides, you'll only make him worse."

            Sirius froze at these words, causing Remus to almost run into him.  He turned around, impatient but reluctant at the same time.

            "What is it?" Sirius asked hurriedly, "Is he breathing?  Is he conscious?  Does he have all his limbs?"

            "He's not in any danger anymore, Sirius, though you rushing in and being overdramatic would probably kill him emotionally.  Thankfully, he's actually become responsive again, but—"

            "Remus, what happened?" Sirius said with a heavy gravity he rarely used.

            The man took a deep breath, glancing away.  "I suppose it would be best if you knew some of the story first.  According to Draco, the Heirs accidentally intercepted a letter from Insider.  It said Voldemort was traveling over land and being susceptible to an attack.  Apparently the Four felt the resistance might stop them from going, so they didn't tell Dumbledore.  They'd already learned the Heirs' Strength in secret, and they headed out alone."

            "They learned it?  Even after Dumbledore warned against it?"

            "They are…strong-willed, I suppose."  Remus waved the comment away.  "Draco didn't go much into why exactly they had learned it.  But they did find Voldemort, and apparently it had all been a trap.  They performed the spell, but something went wrong.  How exactly we don't know, though probably by some sort of burning, but Harry was blinded."

            "Blinded?" Sirius asked, confused, "You mean he's blind, permanently?"

            "He can discern light from dark, and as to whether it will be permanent, we don't know, but yes, Harry is blind."

            "And for that he's near a breakdown?" Sirius exclaimed in disbelief, "All he needs to realize is how lucky he really is.  Honestly, I'll just—"

            Remus gripped Sirius' shoulder, stopping him from heading away.

            "Sirius, you know Harry would never be upset like this if that was all that happened.  James Bell was killed."

            Sirius' mouth parted slightly.  "The Hufflepuff Heir?  The—the little boy?"

            Remus closed his eyes, nodding.  "Draco says that Harry feels he should have been able to save him.  He came close, and he's taking his blindness as a punishment for failing."

            Sirius stood there in silence a moment, then jerked into life.  "I've got to talk with him," he said hoarsely.

            "Sirius, if you would only—"

            But Sirius ignored him this time, taking off once more.  Remus wasn't to be thwarted, however.  In one swift movement, he grabbed Sirius' upper arm roughly, jerking him back against the wall.

            "Sirius Black," Remus said sternly, "You will stand here, and you will listen to every word I have to say, and you will know exactly what happened.  Only then will you be allowed to go to the hospital wing."

            Sirius was irritated and angry at being treated like a child, but knew he wouldn't win the argument.  That didn't mean he had to like it.  "And why is it you know about all this when I, his godfather, haven't heard a word?"

            "I was in Albus' office when Ronald Weasley came running in.  I went back with the others…" Remus' voice grew quieter.  "Harry was sitting under a tree and Azar had her arms latched around his waist.  She refused to let go for a long time, not until we assured her he'd be alright.  Harry didn't seem to even notice she was there or that we had come.  It was a while before we could even get him to agree so we could bring him back by the Transfer Charm.  Thankfully the charm allowed them all to have a dreamless sleep, for a while at least.  After Harry, Azar, and Hermione had left, Draco took us—"

            "Tell me about him later, Remus; my concern right now is Harry," Sirius interrupted.

            Remus' gray eyes flashed dangerously.  "He is one of your students, Sirius, and Harry's friend.  You should care about all of them.  They are a part of Harry's life, and therefore a part of yours."

            Sirius looked down at the floor, then slowly removed his arm from Remus' grasp.  "I'm sorry, Moony, but what can I do?"

            "More than anything, they need comfort, Sirius.  We've contacted their families, but the Zundels and Grangers are Muggles; they won't be able to come here.  And Draco has no one.  We need to be there for them."

            Sirius nodded slowly and then, without a word, turned and walked to the hospital wing.  This time, Remus didn't try to stop him.

            As he neared the hospital wing, his pace slowed.  Right outside the room stood Draco Malfoy, leaning against a wall and staring into space.  Sirius was positively maddened by being so near his destination and yet having this block.  No, not a block, he reminded himself, and he walked up to Draco.

            "Hey, Draco," he said quietly, "How are you doing?"

            The boy looked up at him, raising one eyebrow slightly.  The rest of his expression was blank.  "Well enough, considering."

            Sirius felt more than a little awkward.  "Feel like talking, or anything?"

            "Not particularly," Draco answered, looking back down at the floor, "He's in there alone now, I think.  Pomfrey's done all she can do."

            Sirius hesitated reluctantly a moment.  Yet it seemed so much like Draco had given him permission to see Harry first…  Patting the boy's shoulder firmly, Sirius entered the hospital wing.

            Harry sat up in his bed, a number of pillows stacked behind his back.  He was still in the pajamas he'd been dressed in when he had been brought there, silent and compliant.  His covers were pulled up just past his waist and his hands rested languidly upon them.  His eyes were blank.

            Sirius stood there a long time before speaking up.  "Harry?"

            The boy looked around quickly, those emotionless emerald jewels trying to find his godfather.  And though his eyes didn't mirror it, the rest of Harry's face spoke of a sudden joyful despair.

            "Sirius," he said quietly, his voice worn and tired.

            The man walked over and sat by Harry's bed, placing a hand on the boy's forearm so he would know he was there always.

            "I came as soon as I heard, Harry," he said, for nothing else came to mind and the silence was unbearable.

            Harry nodded slightly, taking a deep rattled breath.  "Did they… Did they tell you everything?" he choked out.

            "Yes," he answered, giving Harry's arm a comforting squeeze.

            The boy nodded again.  He stared blankly down at his bed sheets a long while, not trusting himself to speak.  Yet, with Sirius, there was a desire to tell all, to have everything spill out like a little child sobbingly telling his mother how he got the scrape on his knee so he can receive sympathy and a kiss to make it all better.

            "I tried," the boy finally said, catching sobs in his throat, "He was there a-and I knew I could reach him… But Voldemort was quicker, and…and I gave up.  But I tried…  I really tried…"

            The boy really had to fight his tears now.  It felt as though his lids were near to overflowing, and he gave silent gasps to stop a lump from escaping his throat.  Slowly, the man took his godson in his arms, holding him tight as though trying to take the pain as his own.  The boy no longer fought his tears.

            "If only I'd reached a little harder," he wept into Sirius' shoulder, "But I was afraid, I was afraid of being pulled in, and so I left him."

            "Harry James Potter, you did nothing of the sort," Sirius told him with a gentle insistence, "You reached 'til your arm ached with the effort.  Don't blame yourself for not being allowed to succeed."

            "You don't understand," Harry said, his voice shaking, "I could have refused to go.  They couldn't have gone without me.  I could have gone to Dumbledore, used some common sense.  I could—"

            "Harry, stop," Sirius said firmly, "There are millions of things one could have done to make a outcome turn out better, but there are also millions of things one could have done to make it worse.  You just have to accept that you did the best with what you knew and forgive yourself for what might have been avoidable."

            Harry buried his face deeper into his godfather's robes, trying to smother the questions in his mind.  Sirius just held him tightly, knowing no amount of words could make Harry feel better.  Thus silence reigned over all the ages and two stood frozen in it, trying to forget that which blared in their minds.

            Slowly, Harry's grip lightened and his green eyes became visible.

            "Have you ever forgiven yourself?" the boy asked hollowly into Sirius' shoulder.

            "What?" Sirius answered, feeling his heart sink.

            Harry pulled out of the embrace, almost as if to look at Sirius, though the boy's eyes remained blank.

            "Have you ever forgiven yourself for my parents' deaths?" Harry repeated, weighing the world upon each word.

            Sirius slowly closed his eyes, bowing his head.  His gaze remained upon the floor.

            "You know what it feels like, Sirius," Harry whispered, catching a sob in his throat, "You know it's not a matter of just forgiving oneself.  It's not that easy.  Don't ask me to do what you cannot."

            The room rang with the nothingness that followed these words.  Sirius stared at the hospital floor, beginning to understand.  Not just Harry's pain but what forgiveness really meant.

            "You're right," he said hoarsely.

            Harry glanced up at him without seeing.  Sirius took a deep breath, looking at Harry as though to be sure he was there, that he was listening.

            "It's hard," he started slowly, "to know for sure.  When he is dead—when I can't ask for his forgiveness—how can I give it to myself?"

            Sirius stopped, in thought and remembrance.

            "Harry, do you think James would forgive?" he asked finally, "Me?"

            "Of course," Harry answered with conviction, "He would never say it was your fault.  It wasn't."

            "But you hardly knew him," Sirius said quietly, "How could you know that he would forgive me?"

            Harry was silent for a moment, but only a moment.  "I just know."

            "As do I.  James would forgive, Harry.  We need to be able to do the same."

            He placed a gentle grip on Harry's shoulder, and the boy's face was filled with empathy.  It seemed as if a fog had cleared from the room, the air no longer suffocating.  The window was open, letting in the bright sun that always seemed to follow those clouded nights.  This Harry knew and saw, for though the rest of the world was indiscernible, he could tell the darkness from the day.

            Suddenly, Harry pushed back the covers, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.  "Think we could go for a walk?" he asked.

            Sirius nodded, then spoke up.  "Sure."

            "But not out in front of people.  Not yet.  Could we…could we take the shortcut to Honeyduke's?"

            Sirius grinned.  "Cyclops' cave, we used to call it."

            He deftly grabbed Harry's slippers and started to put them on the boy's feet.

            "No, just put them on the ground, I can put them on," Harry said quickly.

            Sirius nodded, gently placing the slippers down by Harry's toes.  The boy's feet found them quickly and he stood slowly, unsteady, unsure.  Taking a few hesitant steps, he smiled.

            "Well, my legs still work at least."

            Sirius laughed, putting an arm around Harry's back.  "There's always a bright side."

            They walked to the door, Sirius not withdrawing his hand.  The hall was empty when they exited; Draco had apparently found something to do.  Harry paused a moment.

            "You don't need to guide me," he said quietly.

            "I know, Harry," Sirius smiled as they walked on, holding the boy tighter.  "I know."

****

            Draco must have paced the long corridor outside the hospital wing a hundred times, running a few stairs while he was at it, and he showed no signs of stopping.  He had to keep moving, to stop thinking.  Madam Pomfrey had tried to usher him into pajamas and bed but he wouldn't have it.  Not even the all-powerful school nurse had any sway when Draco's mind was set.  He wasn't injured, he wasn't tired, and he didn't want to lie around and do nothing when he could walk around and do nothing.

            Why exactly he stayed so close to the hospital wing, Draco wasn't sure.  No one was in there:  Harry and Sirius were gone, Ron and Hermione were with Dumbledore last he knew, and Azar had disappeared.  Even Madam Pomfrey was having some well-deserved rest after an interrupted night of bustling and worrying.  Yet he kept pacing by the door, as though expecting them to suddenly appear there, for Draco Malfoy had no place else to go.

            Ronald Weasley, on the other hand, was walking with a purpose.  He knew exactly where to go:  McGonagall's office, where his parents waited, or so the headmaster had just told him.  It was only by chance that the route he took crossed the hospital corridor, and it was only by chance that as he neared that hall, Draco suddenly paced by, unseeing.  The encounter was enough to jolt Ron's memory, and with all that had happened, he felt he must know.  His parents could wait.

            "Draco," he called.

            The blond boy almost tripped he spun around so fast.  His face registered surprise a moment, but he let it pass.  "Ron," was all he could manage to get out.

            "There was something I wanted to talk to you about."  Ron seemed ready to dive into a question but froze, as if thinking better of it.  "Um…well, how are you doing?"

            Draco couldn't have been more shocked if Ron had asked, "Do these robes make me look fat?"  He didn't even know how to reply.  Ron Weasley actually caring about him?

            "And I mean really," Ron added awkwardly, "Most people say fine without thinking, even if they mean to say they'd rather they'd been force-fed boulders."

            Draco's eyes reached a more normal size at these words, though they were still wide enough to be surprising on the face of one who never liked to show anything but confidence.

            "I'm okay," he said quietly.

            "Really?" Ron asked, slightly skeptical.

            "Fairly.  I'm not running about ranting about Ministry conspiracies, so that's always a good sign."

            Ron was quiet a good while, not looking at Draco and biting his lip.  "Um…I was wondering…  Well… The reason—I'm not…  Is Azar a Seer?"

            Draco's eyes didn't grow wide at this.  Rather, they narrowed into steel slits.  He should have known; Ron wouldn't pretend to care an ounce about him unless there was some information to get.

            "Why would you think that?" he said coldly.

            "I heard you and Harry talking one day.  And then with this…and Azar muttering that it was her fault, that she should have stopped it… I was wondering if she…Saw it happen."  Ron seemed to trip over every word.

            "That's really not my business to tell," Draco said, a king to the thieving beggar, "and it's not your business at all.  Keep your long nose where it belongs."

            It was time for Ron's eyes to grow wide, his jaw slacking to add to the effect.  He really didn't think he'd asked that much.  After all, Azar was his friend, too.  But whatever he'd done, he knew it must have been awful in Draco's eyes.

            "I…  Well, it's all just a bit strange," Ron stumbled along, "Like why did she hide it from us—well, me.  It seems no one tells me anything anymore, as though…  Well, I just don't understand.  All this frightens me, really."

            "Oh?" Draco replied, busy brushing a bug off his cloak so Ron would know the conversation was over.  The normally imperceptive boy caught on.

            "I guess I best be off to see my parents then," Ron said, trying to take back the whole conversation, "You know my mum; she'll think I was attacked by a gang of trolls."

            "No, I don't."

            Ron raised an eyebrow.  "No you don't what?"

            "No, I don't know your mother," Draco said expressionlessly, "I've only seen her a few times."

            This made Ron feel even more awkward.  What could one say to that?  In his ever-articulate way, he finally spoke up.

            "Oh.  Well…I'll see you later then."

            Draco didn't answer, simply nodding, and Ron hurried off.  His pacing having stopped, Draco didn't feel up to starting it again.  He leaned against the wall beside the door to the hospital wing, trying to remember not to think.  Thinking led to things he didn't want to remember.

****

            It took numerous reminders from both Mr. Weasley and Ron that human beings must breathe to survive before Mrs. Weasley let go of her youngest son.  It took a greater amount of persuasion before his parents believed that he truly was all right.  It was only then that they began to inquire as to the others.  Ron told them all he knew.

            "We can go to the hospital wing if you want," he finished, "I don't know if they're there, but—"

            "We'll go," Mrs. Weasley interrupted.

            "I have a few things to take care of," Mr. Weasley said, "But I'll try and join you.  Ron?"

            His son turned to him and the father took him in his arms.  "In case I don't see you before I leave."

            "Leave?" Ron asked, concerned.

            "The Ministry will be in an uproar; I have to be there," Mr. Weasley explained solemnly, "But I will be back tomorrow.  I promise."

            Ron nodded, then headed for the door.  Mrs. Weasley gave her husband a quick kiss good-bye and then followed her son.  They walked in silence.  As they turned a corner, the door to the hospital wing came into view, and with it Draco Malfoy.  The sight caused Ron's pace to slow.  The boy just leaned against the wall, staring blankly ahead and not moving, as though the subject of some solemn and dismal painting.  Mrs. Weasley, too, felt the somberness of this stranger, caring less for the boy's identity than the fact that he was alone.

            "Draco?" Ron called quietly.

            The only thing Draco moved were his eyes, flitting them over to look at the approaching pair.  Seeing Ron was not alone, Draco seemed to think better of ignoring him and stood up, facing the two Weasleys.  They in turn walked up to him.  There was silence for a while.

            "I don't believe we've met," Mrs. Weasley said, though truly she had guessed at least he was a Malfoy.  That family was unmistakable.

            "Mum, this is Draco Malfoy, Heir of Slytherin," Ron said, looking at Draco, "And my friend."

            Draco's eyes darted at Ron in surprise only to find the boy gazing at him with apologetic hope.  He felt like laughing to see a Weasley wanting to apologize to a Malfoy, but gave a small smile instead.  Ron's face relaxed.

            "And Draco, this is my mum, Mary Weasley, though most call her Molly," Ron said, finishing the introductions.

            Holding out a hand and turning to the plump woman, Draco said, "Pleased to mee—"

            He didn't get a chance to finish before Mrs. Weasley ignored his hand and took him up in an embrace.  The smile on Draco's face was wiped clean, replaced by frozen shock.  His arms hung stiffly at his sides, neither rejecting nor welcoming the contact.  He felt completely numb.  It was almost as if he didn't even know what to do.

            Mrs. Weasley pulled back, her hands still on Draco's shoulders, her eyes fixed on his.

            "If I could have suffered in your place, I would have," she said, her eyes shining with tears.

            The numbness slowly seeped away.  "I…I'm fine," he answered quietly, "I'm not hurt."

            "Just because you've suffered no physical harm doesn't mean you're not hurt," Mrs. Weasley said, her soft eyes not leaving his, "That kind of wound only heals with talking."

            Draco's eyes darted nervously over her face, pleading almost.  She nodded.

            "I understand," she said with a small smile, brushing a stray strand of silver hair from his forehead, "But do not be afraid.  There is far too much fear in the world now for you to also hold it against your friends."

            Draco bit hard on his tongue, for physical pain always seemed to ease far worse aches.  He tried to keep his gaze even and unaffected, to look at Mrs. Weasley—not coldly, but without emotion.  Her sympathetic eyes and gentle smile didn't help one bit, but he managed, though nearly shaking with the effort.

            "My word, what are you doing standing like this?" Mrs. Weasley suddenly cried as though she'd just seen Draco for the first time, "I'm surprised Poppy would allow it; she normally knows better.  Come along, we are getting you in bed."

            Before Draco could even think to object, she ushered him into the hospital wing and beside the bed Pomfrey had set up for him, Ron following almost in curiosity.

            "Mrs. Weasley," Draco started to say, finally having found his voice, "really, I—"

            "I won't hear another word of it," she insisted, "Now let's get you into some pajamas."

            With those words, she took hold of the bottom of Draco's shirt and gave a sharp yank upwards, revealing a stomach and chest that looked as though they'd never seen the sun.

            "Mrs. Weasley!" Draco cried in a shrill pitch Ron would never have expected from him.  He quickly tugged his shirt out of her hands and back in its proper place.  When he spoke again, his voice was closer to normal, though not quite.  "Mrs. Weasley, I assure you, I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself."

            "That of course is a matter of opinion," Ron interjected with a grin.

            "Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley cried, swatting the back of her son's head, "And I'm sorry, Draco.  I occasionally go on automatic mother."  She smiled warmly, patting Draco's shoulder.  "I'll let you have your privacy then.  But you had better be in bed when I get back."

            She quickly bustled out of the room.  Ron glanced at Draco, who looked slightly surprised, and gave him a grin.

            "So now you know my mum," he said, amused.

            "A little more personally than I would have liked," Draco said in an undertone, sitting on his bed and taking off his socks and shoes, "Has she always been so eager to undress teenage boys?" 

            "Don't go making it sound dirty," Ron scolded, "She just has a lot of experience mothering, her own kids and everyone else's.  Once when Charlie was seventeen, he came home very late and she frog marched him upstairs and got him in bed and in his pajamas before he could even say a word.  Believe me, if you refuse to go to bed, she'll have you in before you can even think."

            "Now who's making it sound dirty?" Draco said, somewhat smugly.

            Ron just shook his head, pulling up the curtains for Draco.  He suddenly burst out in laughter.

            "What?" Draco said, trying not to grin.

            "I seriously never thought I'd say this to another human being," Ron said turning to him, "but you're even paler than I am."

            "Well we can't all be blessed with little brown spots all over our bodies."

            "No, I guess not," Ron grinned, walking out of the curtain.

            Draco had just turned to remove his shirt when Ron popped his head back in.

            "By the way, if you're not careful, Mum'll adopt you.  She has that habit, you know."

            And then he left.

****

            When Sirius and Harry stepped back into the halls of Hogwarts, classes were going on.  The far-off murmurs of lecturing teachers and gossiping students trickled through the corridors.  Harry wondered what they were saying now, if anyone knew.  Surely all houses wondered where their friends were.  And he knew that, soon enough, Hufflepuffs would walk with bowed heads and sad eyes and that whispers of blame would find their way to Harry Potter.  But now they were in class, certain that those that were missing were just off somewhere.  They had no reason to think differently.

            Entering the hospital wing, Sirius still holding Harry's shoulder, the man was taken aback to find they were not alone.  There was someone lying bored in a bed next to Harry's.

            "Draco," Sirius said, mildly surprised at seeing the Slytherin, "I didn't know you knew the meaning of rest.  Might I assume Poppy had something to do with it?"

            "No," Draco said solemnly, "It took a far greater power than hers to get me in bed."

            Sirius raised an eyebrow, but a small smile crept onto Harry's face.

            "Mrs. Weasley," he said.  It wasn't a guess.

            "You're the one she adopted, right?" Draco asked Harry, "Ron practically said as much, though I wasn't sure."

            "Wait, what?" Sirius said, feeling as though he were in a dark room looking for a black cat that wasn't there.

            "You don't know her too well, do you Sirius?" Harry answered, finding his way to his bed and sitting.

            "No, I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure."

            "Be glad."

            "Watch it, Draco," Harry warned, turning slightly toward the boy.

            "Joking," he said in defense, "Though truly, I was more than a bit surprised at her proceeding to strip me right in front of Ron."

            Sirius stared at the boy, thinking any moment he would add another "joking".  He didn't.

            "But then, it's not really her fault," Draco insisted, "I'm cursed, after all; I really am."

            Harry burst out laughing, and probably would have laughed harder if he could have seen how closely Sirius' expression matched the one Snape had made when he heard the same remark.  It felt good to laugh.  Draco grinned, lying back on his pillow.

            "Well, I'm pleased to see you listened to me," Mrs. Weasley said to Draco as she entered the room.

            Then she saw Harry.  She bustled over to him, being overly fussy to make him smile.  Draco had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, as though an elephant had just decided to sit there.

            And then Mrs. Weasley turned away from Harry and started acting as nursemaid to Draco.  He acted slightly irritated at her attention, but the boy felt as though cold ebbed from him, leaving a new warmth, almost like drinking a fresh butterbeer.  Though he would never admit it, he was beginning to like this woman very much.

            Numerous visitors appeared throughout the day, none of them students but Ron and Hermione; Madam Pomfrey wasn't about to subject her patients to a crowded room.  With every shuffled step on the floor, Harry would sit up sharply, expectantly.  Yet each time he was wrong.  No one had seen Azar since they'd returned to Hogwarts.  She'd gone off on her own, and Harry was far from the only one that was worried.

            Gradually, the hospital wing emptied.  Madam Pomfrey insisted that Ron and Hermione go back to the Gryffindor tower.  Mrs. Weasley insisted on being close to the hospital wing at all times, so Madam Pomfrey offered her sleeping quarters in her office, which she accepted.  Sirius, however, was not to be moved.  He assured Madam Pomfrey that he would be very quiet and not disturb the patients at all, and she finally had to accept that.

            Sirius was as good as his word, taking a seat in the corner of the room by the door, and Harry and Draco drifted off into sleep.  Sirius, however, couldn't sleep that night.  He stared at a dark wall of the room, unable to stop his memories from visiting.

****

            Dean, Seamus, and Neville were asleep when Ron entered the boys' dormitory.  It was probably best; he didn't feel up to answering any questions.  There was another reason it was good, he soon realized, spotting a gentle bluish-white glow coming from the cracks in his bed curtains.  He smiled slightly; it was time to turn the tables on Percy.

            Quietly, he snuck up to his bed.  He took hold of the curtains, and then suddenly whipped them open, crying, "Boo!"

            Percy gazed back at him, unfazed and even slightly annoyed.  "That was intelligent," he said sarcastically.

            "You weren't scared?" Ron asked, pretending to be offended.

            "Ronald, I'm a ghost," he said, floating up and a bit away from the bed, "Somehow 'boo' just doesn't evoke thoughts of terror.  Besides, you did a rotten job of sneaking up.  If there's one thing you've never been, it's discreet."

            "And tactful, if you ask Mum.  I've got a bruise to prove it," Ron smiled, standing by his brother as he rubbed the back of his head.

            "What?"

            "Oh, Mum just whacked me for pokin' fun at Draco," Ron answered offhandedly.

            "M…Mum's here?" Percy asked quietly.

            Ron nodded, suddenly solemn.  "Dad was, too, but he had to go back to the Ministry."

            "Where's she staying?"

            "I'm not really sure.  Knowing Mum, she's probably still in the hospital wing," Ron said with a small smile, "…Have you…heard?"

            "About James?  Yes, I've been about the school…"  Percy sat on Ron's bed again, staring off in thought.  "You still haven't told them, have you?  Mum and Dad, I mean."

            "No, not yet."  Ron felt the heat coming to his ears.  

            Percy nodded.  "Well, that's your choice.  Might even be a good thing, right now.  That way I won't be tempted to go talk with her."

            Ron fidgeted awkwardly, somewhere between shame and uncertainty.  Percy was content to be silent for a while.

            "Ron," he said quietly, indicating the bed space right next to him, "Sit down.  I need to talk with you."

            A bit confused, Ron complied.  Percy stared at the floor for a long while, not sure how to say what he needed to.

            "First, I just want to say that I can't tell you much.  I'm not even sure if I'm allowed to say anything, but…  Well, I'm just a bit worried," he said reluctantly.

            Ron was quiet, not sure what to make of it.

            "Don't do anything stupid this year, Ron," Percy finally said, looking firmly in his brother's eyes.

            "Oh, is that all?" Ron laughed.

            "I'm serious, Ron.  Don't be reckless or unwise.  Don't just go off and do something because you think you have to.  You never have to."  Percy paused a moment.  "This…this death…  Well, I wasn't even going to say anything before, wasn't even thinking of it…  But I'm scared for you, Ron.  Just don't go get yourself killed."

            "James was an Heir, Perce.  I'm a nobody.  They don't kill nobodies."  Ron gave a small smile, but Percy just shook his head.

            "Never think you're so unimportant that it won't happen to you," he insisted, "I was just a lowly Ministry worker, but that didn't matter.  Death Eaters don't care."

            Ron laughed slightly.  "Well, unless they want information on how to be an undefeated chess champion, I'd say I'm pretty safe."

            "You're the best friend of one of Voldemort's most hated enemies.  I'd say that's something to worry about.  And you don't exactly have a record of playing it safe."

            "What, you think I'll just feel like strolling into Voldemort's lair sometime?  I'm not stupid, Percy."

            "I mean it, Ron," Percy said sternly, "No adventures, no chances.  Stay at Hogwarts where you'll be safe."

            "Oh, I'll just lie in bed all day then, shall I?" Ron scoffed, "Honestly, Percy, why are you acting like this?"

            Nervously, Percy stood up, walking around a bit and stopping by a wall.  He turned to Ron, his hands behind his back and his gaze serious and even.

            "Because, Ron, I'll be gone within the year."  He paused, glancing at the floor, then looking back at his youngest brother with a much less even gaze.  In one quick breath, he added, "And I'll be taking someone with me."

            Before Ron could even do anything but widen his eyes, Percy turned and walked through the wall, leaving his brother to gape alone.

****

            It was past midnight when Harry sat up sharply in his bed, giving a small cry.  Sirius' eyes darted over to him, unsure as to whether or not he should get up.  Harry ran a hand over his face, shaking his head.  With a sigh, he slipped out of bed, walking gingerly for the sink.  He felt around, nearly knocking a glass over but catching it in time and then filling it with water.

            He took a sip, then headed back with glass in hand.  Part way there, the boy froze.  His free arm sprang out in front of him, reaching blindly.  He walked stiffly, unsure, that hand always searching.  His confidence ebbing away, he started turning, thinking that perhaps he'd headed in the wrong direction.  Sirius felt frozen now, the panic and anger evident on Harry's face.  The boy grew more and more frantic, trying to find the bed that was right in front of him.  His steps were no longer cautious and suddenly his hip found the bed, knocking him off balance.  The glass in his hand tipped and all the water it held fell to the ground.  Of his own accord, Harry followed.

            Hunched together, on elbows and knees, his back shock with sobs.  He kept shaking his head, whispering to himself, "It's not fair.  I tried, I tried…  It's not fair!

            Harry slammed his fist on the stone floor and then fell silent.  It was a while before he took a deep breath to calm himself and then gingerly got to his feet.  He ignored the water on the floor, placing his glass on the nightstand and then slipping silently into bed.

            Through all this, Sirius felt a churning in his stomach.  A burning seemed to rush between his eyes and he gripped tightly to his armchair.  As silently as he could, he rushed from the room and down the corridor, heading blindly for the Great Hall.  He burst the doors open and marched onto the grounds.  In the very open, surrounded by nothing but grass, water, and sky, he halted.

            "Why Harry?!" he shouted into the quiet, "Hasn't he suffered enough?  No one should have to go through all he has!  Why?!"

            His eyes flew to the black sky above him, open and all encompassing.  And Sirius felt the churning in his stomach once more.

            "Voldemort!" Sirius yelled, his eyes glinting with a mad fury, "Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the Flight of Death!  Strike me down if you can; strike a thousand dead!  Envelop the world in all your hatred until it can take no more and fades away into black nothingness!  But you will never hurt that boy again!"

            His voice echoed off the lake, bouncing across faraway hills and into the inky sky.  Sirius' breath was heavy, that of someone who had just spent every last ounce of energy.  His clear eyes focused on one piece of sky, the darkest one, completely void of stars.  In those eyes were held such anger, such hate, such determination that if his gaze had been upon a being, that creature would have fallen to its knees and prayed it might see another day.

            Sirius took in one last deep breath and then whispered something, his voice shaking.

            "I'll see to that."

~*~*~

A/N:  *throws confetti and dances in the street*  Not long now, folks!!!  Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix comes out June 21, 2003!!!  WAHOO!!!

            Of course, now this means I much finish this fic before then, so I've got a deadline. ^_^  I should certainly hope I finish before then.

            I know this chapter took a while, but I hadn't any of it written beforehand (okay, that's a lie, but mostly the truth) and I had a friend look over it before I posted, so blame her for taking so long.  (Joke, joke, joke!  I'm very grateful Katina takes any time to read my work!)

            Thank you everyone who reviewed last chapter!!!

**Elucreh:**  Ug, no setting fire to the hair in my ears!  Ron shall be explained eventually, but you must be patient!  Thanks, thanks, thanks again for reading over that for me.

**Naralina:**  Wow…  Thank you.  Just, thank you.  And no, no worries, you didn't blind Harry.  I knew about that since midway through 6th.  I must say, I'm terribly proud of that chapter.  And no, no, no, Ron and Hermione get more and more stage time. ^_^  And what Katina and I argued about was simply a line Azar said, a line I ended up cutting because I realized it was too much.  Thank you again, Allison.

**Jeanne:**  lol, Thanks!  And James was just…fated, I guess.

**Prongs:**  Thanks.

**jona:  **Yes Harry-bashing is your job, but you've been ignoring your job so much lately, I felt I must step in. j/k  Thank you so much.

**Starry:**  Thanks.  I'm truly flattered.

**Princess:**  Can't tell you! ^_^  Thanks, though!

**PrincessForever:**  Thanks.

**Trisana:**  Thanks you.

**Shrimpo/Jewels:**  Thanks!

**Mystery:**  Thank you!  I rather liked "Chamber", though the ending had me writhing in my seat. *sigh*  Too much schmaltz for my taste.

**Sonata:**  Wow, thank you.  And no, this story will go through Harry's complete school year (and  beyond a bit).  Lol, metaphors, I'll keep that in mind. ^_^  Your reviews are always so much fun to read!

**abbey:**  Thanks.  And those answers come later, I'm sorry.  I truly didn't mean for this chapter only to encompass one day, but that's the way it went. ^_^ *cough* IwantKeyofKingsNOW *cough*  Man, I really need to get over this cold. ^_^

**Wishstar:**  Thank you!

            Nothing more to say other than

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	21. Hogwarts' Heirs Fail

Chapter 21:  "Hogwarts' Heirs Fail…"

            A thick blanket of gray hovered over the grounds of Hogwarts castle.  It was as though the lake had risen, raising everything a meter off the ground.  In the forest, the lake rose even higher, making the trees nothing but shadows of giants.  Leaning against the feet of one of these giants, curled in a ball and having a restless sleep, was Azar Zundel.  Her cloak was wrapped tightly around her, the only protection against the cold.  She'd come as the land began to darken the day before, and for once the forest seemed to welcome this sort of intruder, the trees remaining trees, instead of taking on some monstrous form.  They knew a great burden rested on this creature's small shoulders, a burden far greater than the branches and leaves that their sturdy trunks held aloft.

            She hadn't wandered much, simply settling on a spot near the great green field that lead to the vast stone edifice.  Settled, however, could only be used in the loosest sense of the word, for once there, the girl constantly tossed and turned.  She tried sitting and lying in many positions, none yielding sleep.  That is, until the hard wind caused her to wrap within herself.  It was only then that she leaned against her tree and closed her eyes in peace.

            The stars slowly traveled through the night sky until the eastern horizon grew gray, then pink, then orange.  A sliver of sun finally breached the distant hills, sending a shaft of light through the air and into the lake of the green field.  It was amazing how that single beam reflected off the expanse of resting clouds.  As the sun reached higher into the sky, it sent thousands more arrows into the world.  These reflected again and again in the gray blanket, until all was simply reflection upon golden reflection, lake, mist, and stone alike.  It was then one of the yellow arrows passed by Azar's eyes, and she slowly opened them.  Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes grew wider, drinking in the sight.  The whole world had turned to gold.

            The arrows began to break the mist apart, the reflections dissolving at the same time.  So soon Azar found herself looking at a green path to a stone castle, a few remaining wafts trying in vain to reflect with their former strength.  She shifted the cloak, for the sun warmed her now, and, giving the tree a pat, she started down the ostensible path to the grand castle.

            Within the building, all was still fairly dark.  The torches had yet to be relit, and the sun was still trying to edge its way through the windows.  Azar stood in the Entrance Hall a long time, trying to adjust to the new sight.  She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and instantly pulled away, spinning around to find Mr. Weasley looking anxious.

            His wearied eyes shined with sympathy.  "We've been worried about you, Azar."

            "There was no need.  I've simply been alone."

            "I saw you walk out of the forest," Mr. Weasley said in a manner to make her weigh each word, "Have you been there all night?"

            She gazed at him, unsure what exactly to say.  She settled on the truth.  "It just felt like the right place to go, somewhere no one would come searching.  And I wanted to get out of this castle."

            He gave a soft sigh, placing a hand on her shoulder.  "You may be able to numb yourself with cold, but it doesn't work that way in deeper places."

            Azar didn't answer, fearing what might come out.

            "It wasn't your fault, you know," Mr. Weasley said gently, "When you get to my age, you learn to forgive yourself for the choices of the past in favor of those in the present."

            Azar's eyes turned to the floor.  "I know.  I know I can't just dwell on this…  I have to be strong, for Harry's sake."

            Mr. Weasley grabbed both of Azar's shoulders firmly, causing the girl to look up in surprise.  He gave her the sternest look she'd ever seen coming from his eyes.

            "Harry has enough people being strong for him," he said evenly, "Be strong for your own sake."

            She suddenly began to feel very small and very young.  "I hardly know how," she choked out.

            "No one does," he said gently, "Just remember this:  no matter what joys or sorrows befall us, life does go on.  You will have breakfast the next morning, and you will lie down to sleep when night comes.  You will laugh, you will sing, and you will have homework in all your classes.  Life never stops because you want it to.  The world keeps on spinning, and if you try to wait along the wayside, you will get lost.  And Azar, you were not meant to get lost."

            She smiled weakly, gazing up at him.  "Don't worry; I won't."

            Mr. Weasley gave her shoulder a pat, his demeanor pleasant.  "Care for an escort to the hospital wing?  I was headed there myself."

            Azar's face fell.  "Oh, well, I was actually hoping to go there alone…to be there alone."

            The man nodded understandingly.  "Ah, no worries.  I do have some business to take care of with the headmaster."

            Azar squeezed his arm gratefully, then turned and started the long walk to the hospital wing.  Once there, she stood in the doorway for a long time, staring into the room.  Draco was caught in a tangle of sheets, the only thing saving him from tumbling to the floor.  And in the bed beside him lay Harry, having either a less troubled or less lengthy sleep than his friend, judging by the condition of his sheets.  On silent feet, she walked up to the side of his bed.  Hearing a small splash, she glanced down at her feet to find a puddle, smaller than it was originally but still large enough to be noticed.  She swilled the water a bit with her foot, spreading it out so as to dissipate it quicker.

            Her eyes then turned to Harry.  Azar stared at him for a while, then gently sat on the bed, one leg bent under her so she could still look at him.  A small smile played on her lips a moment, and she leaned forward, giving him a kiss.  He kissed back.  She sat up and Harry looked just as he had before but for the grin on his face.

            Without opening his eyes, he said, "I certainly hope this is who I think it is."

            Azar grinned.  "Yes, it is I, Severus Snape."

            Harry gave a laugh, opening his eyes and sitting up.  He reached a hand out to stroke her cheek, and she took it in both of her own so that it might find its destination easier.  His other hand reached up too, cupping the other side of her face and gently fingering her hair.  She gripped tightly to his hand, silent.

            "You okay?" he asked.

            "No.  But I will be.  We all will be."

            Harry was silent at this, his emerald eyes fixed blankly on her face.

            "It's strange," he said quietly, his thumb running along her jawline, "but it's almost as though I can see you.  Everything else has faded, but you are as clear as ever."

            Azar smiled softly, clasping his hand tighter.  Her bottom lip quivered, though, her sight swimming.  She blinked to hold it back, but one tear coursed down her cheek and onto Harry's palm.

            "Hey," he said, gently brushing her damp cheek, "Don't cry.  Please don't cry."

            "I'm so sorry…"

            "For what?"

            "For making you go.  None of this should have happened."

            "It seems not many things should happen, but an awful lot do.  I guess it's one of the side effects of living," he said with a smile.

            "So you don't hate me for it?"

            "I'll start hating you the day the moon crashes into the ocean and takes up surfboarding," he grinned.

            She kissed him eagerly.  "You are the most wonderful being to ever walk the earth!"

            He lovingly passed a hand through her hair.  "I'm afraid someone else in this room already has that title, and she's in no position to be dethroned."

            Azar laughed, flopping on the bed.  "Dear Rowena," she suddenly murmured, closing her eyes, "If this bed isn't the most heavenly thing there is."

            "Have a rough night?" he asked, lying back and putting an arm around her.

            "Ghastly," she answered, snuggling up to him, her eyes still closed.

            "Mine, too."

            She fell silent, one arm resting on Harry's chest in a hug.  He gently rubbed her shoulder, but it wasn't long before even that simple movement ceased.  They both were fading off into a sleep that would finally be peaceful.

            "Mr. Potter!  Miss Zundel!"

            Azar's eyes snapped open to find that a shocked Madam Pomfrey was now in the room.

            "Get up this instant!" she cried shrilly, not bothering to wait for Azar to comply.  She snatched the girl up and out of the bed.  "In all my years as this school's nurse, I've never…!  And to think we worried the whole night about your whereabouts when you were here all along!"

            "Madam Pomfrey, you don't understand, I was only—"  Azar tried to hold it back but couldn't, sneezing in the nurse's face.

            "And you're sick!" Madam Pomfrey cried, the list of crimes growing ever longer, "We are getting you in bed this instant, but not over here.  You are going in the corner farthest from these boys, and your curtains will be permanently up!"

            "Madam Pomfrey," Harry pleaded, gingerly getting to his feet and hoping he was gazing somewhere in her general direction, "Azar just came in this morning."

            "Oh, so that makes matters better, does it?!"

            "Honestly," Azar cried in exasperation, "I was just lying down with him and talking!  It's no different than having a quiet talk with your mother!"

            Madam Pomfrey's nostrils flared at this, her voice as shrill as a teapot.  "Unless your mother happens to be a seventeen-year-old boy, it is very different!"

            "Sorry to interrupt," came a voice, "but might I offer my observations?"

            Draco Malfoy was sitting up in bed, watching the argument with some amusement.  His covers were smooth now, something he'd clearly done while everyone else in the room was occupied.

            "I woke several times during the night," he continued, "and not once did I see Azar even in the room."

            Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows rose slightly.  "And might I assume that you were not awake the entire night, or this morning?"

            "Well, yes—I mean, no, I wasn't."

            "Then you were not aware of everything that took place."

            "That's because nothing took place!" Azar huffed, "We didn't do anything!"

            "Miss Zundel, I come in here to find—"

            "Madam Pomfrey, you are upsetting your patients," Draco tisked, smiling slightly, "It's so unlike you."

            Madam Pomfrey looked far from pleased at this condescension, but a slight flicker in her eyes indicated that she actually took it to heart.

            "Might I suggest a compromise?" Draco offered, "Azar could take the bed by me.  Far enough from Harry for your tastes, I should say, but not banishing her to the deepest recesses of the room.  Fair enough?"

            Madam Pomfrey gazed at him calculatingly for a while, then turned to Harry and Azar.  Azar tried to look pleading though not eager; she was sure that would only worsen the matter.

            "All right, fine," Madam Pomfrey finally conceded, "But if I see anything suspicious—"

            "We know, we know," Azar grumbled, "Not like you did in the first place."

            Madam Pomfrey gave her a sharp look, but decided to ignore the comment.  "I'll get you some pajamas, Miss Zundel, and then we'll see about that cold."

            She bustled out of the room, Azar's eyes following her mutinously.

            "What a nasty busybody," she huffed, folding her arms, "I doubt she has a life of her own, she's so busy running others'."

            "If anything, she can only be accused of jumping to conclusions," Draco said simply, "Though whether founded or not is still to be determined."

            Azar's eyes flashed in his direction.  "Watch it."

            Harry chuckled slightly, sitting on his bed.  "This was interesting, but I say there's nothing that can top 'What would a peek hurt?'"

            Azar collapsed to the floor in laughter.  Draco raised an eyebrow, gazing at them.  "The more I learn about your lives," he said with the hint of a smile, "the less I want to know."

            Harry grinned and was about to comment when Azar's laughter turned into a hacking cough.  Harry stood up sharply but hesitated, unsure he could help her without tripping.  Thus Draco rushed over to her, gingerly patting her back.

            "You really are sick," he said, surprised, as her attack subsided, "I thought you sneezed in Pomfrey's face for spite."

            "Ew, no," Azar answered hoarsely, trying to clear her throat, "Believe me, this is real phlegm I'm hacking up."

            "Where exactly were you last night?" Draco questioned.

            "Well, if you must know, in the Forbidden Forest."

            "All night?!" Harry cried.

            "Oh, c'mon, I had a cloak."

            "It was cold, Azar!  You could be seriously ill."

            "We're getting you in bed," Draco commanded, directing her to the bed beside his, "You need to be kept as warm as possible."

            "C'mon, I'm already burning up as it is."

            "Probably because you've got a fever," Draco said sternly, "I'll get Pomfrey in here as soon as I can."

            Azar decided against whining further, allowing herself to be tucked in like a child.  She didn't particularly mind; she was asleep the second her head hit the pillow.  Draco went after Madam Pomfrey to tell her to bring some Pepperup potion.  And Harry stood silently by his bed, feeling useless and alone.

****

            "Albus is at the Ministry at the moment, Arthur, but I'm sure he'll be back soon," Professor McGonagall explained, gesturing for the man to take a seat.

            "We seem to just keep missing each other," Mr. Weasley smiled amiably, glancing around the circular office that by now he knew every inch of.

            "Yes, you are both constantly on the move.  Thus I am stuck with the job of mediator," Professor McGonagall said, raising an eyebrow with a pleasant smile.

            Mr. Weasley laughed, but there was something forced about it.  His eyes were uneasy as silence settled in.

            "I'm worried, Minerva," he finally said with a sigh.

            "I suspected as much," she replied simply, waiting for him to elaborate.

            "I'm worried about Bill.  Minister is no easy job and I can see it wearing on him.  And with the poison last week…"  He took a deep sigh.  "God, Minerva, that was so close.  What if next time they succeed?"

            Professor McGonagall pursed her lips.  "The thing with plans like slipping poison in a cup is that they usually only have one chance to succeed.  After that, more care is taken. …Have you told Ronald?"

            Mr. Weasley shook his head wearily.  "I don't feel it's necessary, especially after all that's happened to the Heirs.  Ron is already stretched thin; he doesn't need another worry hanging over his head."

            Professor McGonagall nodded, though she didn't really agree with him.

            "He's been Minister for less than a year," Mr. Weasley continued on Bill, "and yet his face looks as though he's been so for seventy.  He's too young for it, Minerva."

            She smiled slightly.  "So am I.  I believe the only person not too young for the job is Albus, but he won't have it, so novices such as ourselves must take it on.  Don't worry, Arthur; Bill will pull through marvelously."

            Mr. Weasley smiled slightly, though he didn't really believe her.  There was a long pause before Professor McGonagall spoke again.

            "Has Ronald ever…told you about what he goes through in school?"

            Mr. Weasley looked up at her, perplexed.

            "No, I wouldn't suppose so," she murmured, "He does keep his feelings very secret.  Throughout his school career, Ronald has always had more to worry about than any average student.  He's always had a thousand things pulling at him, stretching him farther and thinner.  However, no matter how far he's stretched, I have yet to see him break.  You have a strong son, Arthur."

            Some of the hopelessness faded from the man's eyes, and he smiled at the Deputy Headmistress, nodding.

            "I know," he whispered.

            Professor Dumbledore entered the office then and the conversation quickly turned to business.

****

            Hermione sat in the common room, waiting.  She'd been waiting most of the morning, since the sun rose.  Not that she'd had much sleep.  Images had ran through her head the entire night:  Azar holding James' body, Harry sitting silent in the shadows, Draco quietly telling them what happened.  They allowed no room for sleep.

            Every step on the stair caused her to turn around hopefully, but to no avail.  Ron hadn't come down.  Hermione was starting to feel a bit impatient and practically leapt at Neville when he appeared.  After assuring her that Ron was probably up in the dormitory still, and that he was pretty sure no one else was there, Hermione headed up to the boys' dorm.

            Neville had been right; no one was in there but Ron.  He sat beside his bed, on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest.  His bare feet were curled up because of the cold, but he hadn't so much as put on his slippers.  In fact, he was still dressed in his pajamas.  Hermione watched him a while—he hadn't seemed to notice when she entered—and saw a sort of hopelessness in his blank gaze.

            "Ron?" she said quietly.

            His face turned to hers and he gave a weak sort of smile.  "Hello, Hermione."

            "Are you doing okay?" she asked, walking over to him and sitting down.

            His answer was long in coming.  "…I'm not sure."

            Hermione looked at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation, but none came.  Instead, Ron went back to staring at the floor, trying to find life's secrets in the cracks in the stone.

            "Did you…did you cry at all last night?" he asked tentatively.

            "No.  Not really," she said quietly, "Some things just feel beyond tears."

            "It's okay to cry," Ron answered quickly, looking at her, "It really is."

            Hermione smiled, nodding her head.  "I know."

            The boy glanced down at his feet, and when his eyes looked back up at Hermione, they shone brightly.  "Especially when it all seems so—so out of your control," he said hoarsely, his bottom lip quivering slightly, "and you feel like there's nothing you can do, nothing to…to…"

            Hermione finally understood.  She held out her arms, taking him up in an embrace.  Ron gripped her tightly back, hunched slightly so he could find solace in her shoulder.  He shook with sobs, and Hermione patted his back, trying to ease the pain.

            "It's okay," she soothed, "We all cry at some point.  It's okay."

            "I'm just so afraid," he murmured between struggled breaths, "I'm so afraid."

            Hermione knit her brows in confusion.  "Of what?  What are you afraid of, Ron?"

            "He's leaving and taking someone with him.  He's taking someone with him," the boy muttered unintelligibly.

            "Who?"

            "Percy.  He's taking someone with him."

            Hermione loosened her grip enough to look Ron in the eye.  "What?"

            "Someone's going to die, Hermione," he said, nearing a breakdown, "Percy said he had a year, at most, and then he would leave and guide someone along.  Someone I love is going to die."

            Hermione held him close again, but now her grip was as much to assuage her fears as his.  They remained like this for a long while before Ron gently pulled back, composed but still sniffling.

            "I broke my wand," he said miserably.

            "What?"  Hermione couldn't help but feel lost.

            Ron glanced at the floor, muttering under his breath, "I threw my wand against the ground and it broke.  It'll take my whole life savings to replace it!"

            Hermione smiled slightly, murmuring, "Oh, Ron," and then kissed him gently on the forehead.

****

            Azar slouched in her bed, her arms folded and steam pouring from her ears.  Sirius started at this sight when he entered the room, but then a grin spread over his face.  He opened his mouth to speak.

            "Not.  One.  Word," Azar said darkly, her eyes narrowed.

            "Now Azar, everyone has to take Pepperup potion at some point in their lives," Sirius consoled, though still grinning.

            "Doesn't mean I have to like it," she growled.

            "Pomfrey once forced the stuff down my throat right before I went on a date," Sirius said, walking over to Harry's bed, "so I kept my cloak's hood up tight to try and hide the smoke.  The poor girl thought I was Satan himself when the pent up steam escaped by blasting my hood back."

            "Yeah.  Funny."

            Sirius leaned in close to Harry.  "Better watch out, mate.  Looks like she becomes rather grouchy when she's sick."

            "You haven't seen anything," the boy whispered back, "Draco and I've had to be in here with her for hours.  And the last time I saw him, Draco was off for a bathroom break.  That was an hour ago."

            "I can hear everything you're saying, you know!" Azar yelled at them.

            "If you just stopped complaining, it wouldn't be so bad," Harry called back at her.

            It was amazing what a silencing effect those words had on her, though they didn't remove the scowl from her face.

            "Yeah, two days out of commission is about all I can stand," the boy smiled, "It's funny, but it's seemed much longer than that.  Today's felt like an eternity, especially since Madam Pomfrey's watched Azar and me like a hawk.  She wouldn't even let us get within three meters of each other, and believe me, there are some things you just don't want to yell across the room."

            Sirius laughed, most of all overjoyed to find Harry in such good spirits.  As Sirius listened to laments of being cramped in a hospital bed all day, the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Severus Snape.  The man looked about as good as a walking corpse.  It was clear sleep had been lacking in Snape's life the past few days, consequently abolishing any hope of a good temperament.

            In his hand he held a goblet, smoking at the top.  This, after a few long strides to the bedside, he shoved in Harry's hand with a snarled command of, "Drink this, Potter" and then he turned to leave.

            Before Harry could so much as blink, Sirius had snatched the goblet away from him, taking after Snape.

            "What is the meaning of this?!" he yelled at the Potions master, "Tell me now or I swear I'll…I'll—"

            Snape turned slightly towards him.  "By all means, dump the potion out, if you want to throw away any chance of that boy getting better."

            Sirius wasn't sure if this was a bluff.  "What do you mean?  What's in this glass?"

            "A potion of my own invention," Snape answered, resigned to having to speak to Sirius but not to face him, "Its purpose is actually to heal bad burns, but as that is how Potter was blinded, it may be of some use."

            "And how do I know this hasn't been poisoned?!"

            "Sirius," Harry finally spoke up, though quietly, "I've already had some.  Professor Snape brought it in yesterday."

            "It's true," Azar confirmed, "He worked all night to make the batch."

            Against his will, Sirius' ears burned red.  He stood there awkwardly for a moment, then handed the goblet back to Harry.  "Drink up, then."

            Snape turned toward the man fully now, his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised expectantly.  Sirius just gave him a steely look.  "What, waiting for gratitude?  You said it might work.  When 'might' turns to 'does', then you will be thanked."

            Snape just gave him a dark look and then disappeared out the door.

            "I think he wanted an apology," Harry offered, as careful as though he walking over spikes.

            Sirius snorted.  "He's given me every reason to jump to such conclusions.  I've no reason to apologize."

            Harry just drank the potion, not feeling up to facing Sirius when he voice was so on edge.

            Draco walked in just then, returning from his extended bathroom break dressed in everyday clothes.  "She done being petulant yet?" he asked, nodding his head in Azar's direction.

            "Oh, shut up!"

            "Guess not."

            Draco sat on the side of his bed farthest away from Azar.  His gaze met Sirius' and he gave him a meaningful look, nodding his head toward Pomfrey's office.  Sirius looked mildly confused, but nodded.

            "Be right back, Harry," he assured his godson, following Draco.

            They stopped in the small hall between the hospital room and Pomfrey's office, where Azar and Harry couldn't overhear.

            "Is there any news?" Draco asked quietly, those his eyes were wide with anxiety, "Do they know if Voldemort is still alive, and why if he is?  Does the public know about what happened yet? …Did…did they find my father?"

            Sirius shook his head, whispering his answer so the others wouldn't hear.  "Ministry members searched the whole forest, Draco, but no sign of Lucius was found."

            Draco nodded his head slowly, then waited for the other answers.

            "We're still not certain about Voldemort's whereabouts.  And as to whether or not the public knows, I don't kn—"

            "They do."

            The two men turned sharply to find Mrs. Weasley standing in the doorway of Madam Pomfrey's office, a paper grasped in her hand.

            "Hello, Draco, Sirius," she said normally before quickly going back to what she had said before, "The Evening Daily Prophet just arrived.  You'd better look at this."

            She handed them the newspaper, folded over to an article.  The headline read:

**Hogwarts' Heirs Fail in Defeating You-Know-Who; Boy Killed**

Rita Skeeter's exclusive interview with a Death Eater who witnessed the event

~*~*~

A/N:  Eh, much shorter than I intended.  Ah well.  Yes, yes, dear Ms. Skeeter's popping up again.  And no worries, I'll have an explanation for where she's been all this time. ^_^  And, oc, little snippets of the article, if not the whole thing.

            Okay, just to clear up any questions, I'm going to explain a bit about Percy.  First of all, Percy is not your ordinary ghost.  Ordinary ghosts cannot go back.  Percy, in all truth, isn't a ghost, he's a guide.  *takes deep breath*  Long explanation here. (This is one of those "the author knows far too much that the reader will never find out" things. ^_^)  (And do keep in mind that this is fiction, so it's not my true deep down beliefs surfacing.)  In the afterlife, spirits have a chance to be a guide.  It's their choice.  FYI, Percy decided to be a guide, Ginny did not.  Guides, after at least one year of training, are sent down to help others "pass on".  Every person who dies is guided into the afterlife, most often by someone they know.  Of course, the task is not always completed.  Guides have one year to "do their job", and then they must return to the afterlife for another year.  Most of the time, everything goes simply according to plans, but sometimes people make choices that weren't forseen.  In this, the guide may end up bringing back someone else, or no one at all.  Any more questions about guides/Percy, feel free to ask.

            Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!

**jona:**  *hangs head*  Ah, I'm sorry.  I'll be sure to write a rotten chapter soon. ~_^  Girl, you are one of my worst head-swellers!  Don't!  *really hangs head*  I promise, I'll read your newest chs. this weekend.  Crikey, just no time.  It's killing me.  Thank you!

**Jeanne:**  Teehee, it's not supposed to sound good. ^_^  Mm… No anger taking out, please?  lol  Thanks!

**Trisana:**  Er…no, he never gets a break. ^_^  Thanks!

**abbey:**  Thank you!

**Mystery:**  Thanks!

**King Jasbon:**  Hehe… ^_^  Thanks!

**Lyddi:**  Thank you so much!

**serotonin:**  No, no, far from finished.  Don't worry, I will be absolutely sure to make sure that everyone knows when it ends. ^_^  Wow, I roped a MWPP fan!!!  Heehee, well, my next fanfic will be a MWPP… ^_^  Thank you so much.  I'm more than flattered.

**Naralina:**  Hm… Well, most of my cut lines/scenes were literally cut, as in deleted now and forever.  But I do have a few that I still could slip in, but probably won't. *shrug*  Def. not a bad idea. ^_^  Oh, yah!  I was hoping I would get Remus across like that.  Yeah, the spilling water scene, that was sort of a quickly hashed-out scene.  I'd originally planned things to go much differently, but it just didn't happen that way, so I had to "fix" it. ^_^  Very good advice.  I do think I am leaning more toward taking risks, and will be farther on in the story.  The scene between Molly and Draco is just so strange to me, because it all came about because of my imagining Draco's high-pitched "Mrs. Weasley!"  I loved what came out of it, though. ^_^  I know Sirius' line wasn't realistic, but I wasn't. dropping. that. scene. ^_^   I'd had it a long time, and though there are some scenes I'm finding I must let go, I refused to do so with that one.  …Wow.  Allison, just… thanks.

**Starry:**  lol  Well, the strange thing is, when I first introduced James (Bell), I had absolutely no design in it.  I just thought it was quite a common name and might be strange for Harry to hear someone else having his father's name.  But I was glad to discover that Harry and Sirius had that connection, for it just allows them to understand each other more.

**Kelly:**  Oh, please continue with the board, Kelly!  I didn't like it at first either, but you'll get used to it.  *gets on knees*  Pweeese?  lol  I'd answer your Draco question, but can't without giving something away… ^_^  Thank you!

**F75:**  Thanks.

**Colibi:**  Hehe, can't tell you that!

**Elucreh:**  lol No need to repeat it! ^_^  Thanks for your betaing!!!  Hehe… You just gave me an idea, and I don't know if you'll like it. *bwa-ha-ha*  And NO!  I'm not explaining Ron and Percy until it supposed to come. :P  Thanks!

**devilishly-clever34:**  Thank you!

**Sonata:**  Lol, thank you!  Pretty sure…not positive, but pretty sure. ^_^  Aw, I can't take credit for "Flight of Death".  I don't remember where, but I read it on one of those meanings-of-HP-names sites.  *dances*  SO SOON!!!  I'm more than excited!

Ah, I must fly!  I'm gonna be late! (This is what happens when I don't post late-nights on weekends. ^_^)  Thank you all again!

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	22. I Hate Coming Up With Chapter Titles So ...

Dedication:  I've got three people to dedicate this chapter to.  Thank you, Katina, my excellent beta.  Thank you, Amelia, my beta number dos. (Though I kept wondering why you kept reminding me that Draco is 15 when he's 17. ^_^)  I appreciate your help SO much, and it was a lot of fun to read Katina's responses to Amelia's changes. ^_^  And finally, thank you, Allison.  I LOVED getting that chapter review in such a form and it really made my day. (While simultaneously reminding me that I really ought to read over things more closely. lol)  I hope all of you know how important you are to me, as friends and "editors".  Thank you for everything you do.

Chapter 22:  I Hate Coming Up With Chapter Titles So I Won't

            Draco felt that if he moved a millimeter his knees would buckle.  How did she know?  And out of all the people in the world, why did she know?  He barely noticed the paper slipping from his hand as Sirius took it to read more closely.  It was Mrs. Weasley that spoke up finally, her voice quivering slightly.

            "I believe I must have a talk with my son."

            The feeling came back to Draco's form, his head snapping up to gaze at her questionably.  Her eyes shone and looked as though her husband had just been revealed as Lord Voldemort's right-hand man.

            "Just read," she said, her voice now quiet and strained.

            Draco quickly reached for the newspaper.  Sirius, done with his perusal, handed it over, running a hand over his face.  His gaze turned to Mrs. Weasley and he rested a hand on her shoulder.

            "Mrs. Weasley, I'm sure…"

            For some reason, the rest of the reassurance was lost.  Draco's eyes quickly scanned the article, and then came across a name.  He stopped, reread the sentence, but the name was still there.

            Sirius rubbed a hand over his face again.  "Now the question is whether or not we tell Harry and A—"

            Before he could finish, Draco turned and marched toward the hospital room, newspaper in hand.

****

            Ron and Hermione went to the Great Hall late that evening.  They'd barely sat down, however, when an owl swooped over and landed in front of them, dropping a newspaper with a shrill hoot and glaring at Hermione before it took off.

            "Guess he's been waiting a while," she said, smiling at Ron.  He returned the look.

            Unfolding the paper, she picked up a glass of pumpkin juice.  Seconds later, the glass tumbled into her lap, spilling its contents all over her robes.

            "Hermione!" Ron said in surprise.

            Hermione, however, didn't seem aware that her clothes were slowly soaking up the juice.  Her eyes and mouth were as wide as they could go.

            "Of all the…!" she cried.  "The no-good, lying, little worm!  I'll-I'll—I can't believe it!"

            She leapt from her seat and stormed out of the hall, clutching the newspaper in her hands.  Ron scrambled to his feet and followed, crying out questions that Hermione didn't answer.  She was too busy muttering to herself.

            "Ooh, I'll get her.  After all this time!  To think!  That horrid woman!"

            She soon stormed into the hospital wing.  The scene within was clouded with gloom, Draco and Harry sitting on Azar's bed, the girl holding her knees tight and none of them speaking.  Hermione didn't seem to notice this, however, brandishing the newspaper and shouting, "Have you seen this?!"

            "We have, actually," Draco said, his eyes clouded over.  "Sirius and Mrs. Weasley went out to find you to tell you about it.  You and—"

            "Hermione!" Ron said, practically falling into the room and breathing deep.  "You really fly when you're angry.  What's going on?  What did the Prophet say?"

            "It's not what the paper said, but what Rita Skeeter said!" she exclaimed, pushing the paper under his nose.  "She's back to those horrid so-called news articles of hers!  I thought she would stay with her advice column the rest of her career; everyone loved her because she never actually gave advice, just told people they were stupid idiots for getting themselves into the mess they did.  But no, apparently she wasn't content with that; she had to go back to writing this load of bog roll!"

            Ron's eyes were wide as he took in the article's headline.  "But…how did she know?"

            "How indeed," Draco said, not in a question.  His slitted eyes were fixed on Ron.  "Hermione, did you perchance read the whole article?"

            "Well, no," Hermione said a little sheepishly.  "The title was enough to set me off."

            "Read it.  I'm sure you'll find something quite…interesting."

            Perplexed, Hermione scanned the article.  Then her eyes froze and went back over a section to see if she'd read correctly.  Slowly, she looked up from the paper and straight at Ron.

            "You told?" she asked faintly.

            "You told Rita Skeeter," Draco added without a hint of disbelief.

            "What?  No.  Why would you think that?  Just because…  Oh, I see.  So when someone blunders, it's naturally me?  I'm the Neville of the group, aren't I?  Every group has a Neville, and I'm this one's."

            Draco gave him a dark look.  "I'd always figured you the Ron of the group, but if you want to be Neville, go ahead."

            "C'mon, just about anyone could have told Skeeter about…that."

            "Yes, but not just about anyone got credit for it," Draco said, walking forward, snatching the paper from Hermione, and shoving it into Ron's hands.

            This time Ron had a chance to read the article:

                                    Harry Potter's experience failed to aid in the attempt, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent.  While most of their classmates were busy celebrating All Hallows' Eve, Harry Potter, apparent Heir of Gryffindor, and his three fellow heirs snuck out of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a dangerous purpose.  Having intercepted what they believed to be secret messages regarding You-Know-Who's whereabouts, they were determined to try to destroy him.  Many things went wrong for the children, however, and James Bell, Heir of Hufflepuff, ended up paying for their mistakes with his life.

                                    It appears there is a prophecy that said the Four Heirs of Hogwarts were destined to bring about the downfall of "a man whose name will be poison to the tongue."  This prophecy has been kept out of common knowledge, until now, and its validity is sure to be brought into question.

                                    The mistakes of the Four, however, were not the only reasons this attempt ended in tragedy.  It has become apparent that Heir of Ravenclaw Azar Zundel is, in fact, a Seer.  Yet it wasn't until after the event that she revealed she had foreseen everything, including the death of young Bell.  This deliberate deception has brought many questions to the minds of even Zundel's best friends.

                                    "It's all frightening, really," said Ronald Weasley, Head Boy at Hogwarts.  "Why did she hide it from us?  It was her fault.  She should have stopped it."

            Ron stopped right there, looking up at all his friends with wide eyes.

            "Surely you don't…believe this?" he said quietly, his voice cracking.  "I would never … I would never say any of that, much less to her.  Surely you know that."

            "What are we supposed to think, Ron?" Draco said heavily.  "Skeeter may be prone to stretching the truth, but someone has to give it to her first."

            Ron's eyes were practically bugging out.  "Like you are one to talk!  You two were the best of friends last I knew!"

            Draco flushed, staying silent.  Ron turned to Harry and Azar, who had been quiet the whole time.

            "Azar, you know I would never blame you.  It wasn't your fault!"

            She didn't answer, still gazing blankly at a spot on her bed.  Ron turned to Harry who looked at him with lifeless eyes.

            "You know me, Harry.  Please say you believe me," Ron said, his eyes shining.

            Harry's hand reached out, finding Ron's forearm and gripping it tightly.  "Of course I believe you."

            Relief washed over Ron's face.  He put his hand over Harry's, holding it tight in gratitude.  Hermione, trying to get over her numbness, walked over and looked directly at Ron.

            "Are you sure you said nothing like that, ever?  In any conversation?"

            "I didn't even know Azar was a Seer until I asked Draco yesterday!"

            There was a sudden noise like that of something heavy hitting the ground, and Ron and Hermione turned to find Draco clutching tightly to one of the bed ends, holding himself up.  His eyes were wide and he seemed paler than usual.

            "Ron," he said weakly, "in our conversation yesterday, you said that Azar kept saying it was her fault, that she should have done something to stop it."

            "You're right!  But how—"

            "I flicked a bug off my robes," Draco said, shaking his head.

            "No!" Hermione cried out in disbelief.  "That woman!  She is going to get it!  Seems to me she needs a reminder that she could get arrested for what she's doing!"

            "Hardly matters now," Azar said softly.  "The damage is done."

            "Azar," Harry said, sliding over to comfort her, "no one will believe for a second that it was your fault."

            "It's not that," she said, shaking her head slightly.  "… They know I'm a Seer.  Everyone knows."

            There was a long pause before Ron spoke up.  "But what does that matter?  You're no different for it."

            "Oh, believe me, it matters," she said bitterly.  "If anything happens to my family because of this, I swear, I will kill that woman.  I will crush every bone in her body and leave her for the vultures to devour.  Don't think I won't."

            There was no question as to whether or not she was joking.  In the awkward silence that followed, Ron turned back to the article to finish.

            "I don't understand," he murmured.  "If I didn't tell her all this, who did?"

            "Look at the footnote," Draco said darkly.  "She interviewed an anonymous Death Eater who saw the whole thing.  They have the actual interview on page three."

            "Death Eater?  But who?  Who saw it?"

            Draco sat on the edge of a bed, looking up at Ron with pained eyes.  "My father."

            Azar's eyes flitted over to the pale boy.  "Your father?  But how do you know?"

            "He was unconscious, but not stunned.  He easily could have woken up while we were…preoccupied.  Besides," Draco said, his eyebrow raising slightly a moment, "I know my father."

            "Then why wasn't he arrested?" Ron cried incredulously.  "Any respectable person who had a talk with a Death Eater would surely bring along an Auror or two."

            "You forget, Ron:  we're not talking about any respectable person; we're talking about Rita Skeeter," Hermione said, spitting out the name like poison.  "She would do any unlawful thing for such an interview."

            "What does it say?" Harry asked.

            "Not much that is important to us," Draco replied evenly.  "He retells much of it, slipping in an amble amount of pro-Voldemort propaganda.  It's rather sickening, actually."

            "Anything about Voldemort?" Harry said quickly, as though to hurry the answer.

            "Here, Harry," Ron said, turning to the correct page, "you can re…"

            Ron's face suddenly went very red and he quickly closed the newspaper again, trying to hide his mistake.  Harry tried not to look as though he hadn't even heard what Ron said.  The room echoed with silence, only broken by the faint murmur from the halls.

            "Well," Azar finally spoke up cheerily, "this is quite the awkward pause.  I love those, don't you?"

            Harry laughed, the tension broken.  "Always."

****

            The next day, amid many whispers and sideways glances, the remaining Heirs returned to class.  As often as the class schedules allowed, Azar was the one to guide Harry through the halls, Ron taking up the task when she wasn't there.  They kept saying things like, "Now we're turning right," or "Watch out, the next step's a trick one" and each time Harry felt like screaming, though he knew they were just trying to help.  Some classes went harder than others.  Snape seemed to take it as a personal offense that Harry always needed a partner's help, and Trelawney seemed on the verge of telling him it might be best if he took a class in which sight wasn't so imperative.  Every time he had to ask a teacher for help, it felt like a dagger to his side, the shame making his voice become quieter and quieter.  He soon stopped asking altogether.

            What was worse, Harry decided as the next week went on, were the whispers as he walked through the hall.  It was like he was some strange beast that deserved pity.  He couldn't stand pity.  Not all of the quiet conversations were about him; thanks to Rita Skeeter's article no one needed to ask what happened.  Most of the murmurs were about his companion, Azar.  Strange as it was to Harry, it seemed they almost feared her, feared that she would suddenly turn around and reveal their horrid future.  Or worse, not reveal it.

            Initially, Harry wasn't sure if Azar heard or was bothered by their words.  However, on the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts Friday, he heard Lavender whispering to Parvati.

            "I heard most Seers go mad.  They can't stand to see the future and so they lose their minds.  I always thought Azar was a little off; do you think that's why?"

            Without warning, Azar spun around, facing Lavender and crying out, "I just had a vision!"

            Lavender jumped about a meter at this, her eyes wide with horror.

            "Lavender!" Azar said, taking the girl by her shoulders and confirming the worst.  "Beware speaking behind others' backs, for it surely shall lead to a fist in the face!"

            With that, Azar turned back around and walked with Harry into the classroom, leaving Lavender blinking and gaping.

            The story was great entertainment as they walked to the Great Hall for supper.

            "Anyone who claims you haven't a malicious bone in your body, Azar, is greatly mistaken," Draco said upon hearing about it.

            "Hey, she deserved it," Azar said with a shrug.  "Hopefully that'll lessen the whispers a bit.  I'm fine if people talk about me to my face but behind my back is just a bit irritating."

            "C'mon, Azar, you have to reenact it for him," Ron said, laughing at the memory.  "It's just not the same in story form.  Here, Hermione, you play Lavender."

            Azar let go of Harry's arm to replay her triumph, acting it out splendidly and Hermione exaggerating the horror on Lavender's face before being overcome with laughter.

            "Oh, it was truly priceless!" Ron gasped, still laughing as they walked on.  "Harry, I wish you could have seen the look on Lavender's face.  It was really too much."

            "Yeah," Harry said, feeling a slight pang in his stomach.  He was pleased, however, that no one was hanging on his arm now.

            "Oh, speaking of little pests," Hermione said, turning a bit sober, "you won't believe it.  I wrote Skeeter to remind her of what I knew, and I just got the reply back today.  You will not believe it!"

            "Okay, I won't then," Ron grinned.

            "No, I'm serious.  She registered!  She's a registered animagus now!"

            "What?" Ron cried out.  "But surely she's not allowed to use her ability for eavesdropping!"

            Hermione's lip curled slightly.  "She says she'd like to see us prove she is using it for that.  It would be our word against hers."

            "Great.  Now I'm gonna have to look around to make sure no bugs are listening to my conversations.  Of all the rotten—"

            Harry walking into the Gryffindor table halted Ron's exclamation.  He hadn't even realized they were that far, so Harry hit the table as though it wasn't even there, causing a few apples to tumble to the ground.  He stumbled a bit, trying not to fall down and wincing with the pain in his leg.

            "Nice one, Harry," Draco laughed as Harry massaged his thigh. "Be careful, or you'll end up blind and crippled."

            What happened next was so sudden and unexpected that not even Harry was sure why he did it.  All the anger, grief, and despair he'd been holding back broke free, erupting like a volcano that had been dormant for millions of years.  He launched himself forward with an angry yell, just hoping that he might hit Draco.  His aim was exact, Draco giving a cry as he toppled to the ground.  Harry had one desire, one driving force right then:  to destroy, and Draco happened to be the most convenient object.  He balled up his fists and started swinging, seldom connecting with Draco's jaw, but he didn't care.

            "Harry, please stop!"

            Harry froze at the frightened cry.  He wasn't even sure who had said it, but his rage evaporated as quickly as it had arisen, and, though he couldn't see them, Harry felt every eye in the room on him, the silence haunting.  His chest heaved with sobs that never made it past his throat, the situation too surreal for tears.  Suddenly, Harry leapt up and bolted for the door.  His foot ensnared a table leg and he skidded to the stone floor.

            "Let me help you, Harry," came Hermione's quiet voice as he felt her hand pulling up gently on his arm.

            He shoved her away.  "I don't need help!" he yelled.  "I'm fine!  I can take care of myself!  I don't need any help!"

            Crawling up into a run, he rushed for the door, no one stopping him.  He ran through the Entrance Hall, bursting through the doors and down the stairs.  The tears finally came, but he didn't care, dashing down the sloping grounds as if his life depended on it.  As the hill steepened, his feet couldn't catch up with him and he fell, tumbling and skidding, then coming to a halt.  He lay there a moment, silent, his blank eyes spilling over with tears.  In the quiet, he heard the soft lapping of the lake's waters.  He wanted to touch it, to feel the water rolling through his fingers.  The lake had always made things right before.  The lake was always there.

            Harry reached his arm forward, almost smiling at the thought of washing everything away.  His hand hit nothing but grass.  A sob rushed to his throat, but it came out as an angry yell.  His outstretched arm hit the ground as hard as it could, almost trying to break it away.

            "Well, it's a good thing you're taking your anger out on the grass rather than on your friends," said a more than a little bit bitter voice.  "I mean, at least then you won't do something you'll regret."

            "Azar, you don't understand," Harry said, teeth a little gritted.  "No one understands."

            "Don't assume things, Harry.  My grandmother was blind."

            Harry sat up, raising his eyebrows.  "Really?"

            "Yes," Azar said, sitting next to him.  "The thing she loved most in the world was traveling, seeing new things and new people.  Then she got glaucoma, and all that was taken away from her.  It was terribly unfair, but she made the best of it.  She learned to listen.  Everything opened up for her; now all the wonderful images came in her mind.  Sight doesn't hinder imagination."

            Harry just stared off into the distance, his jaw mutinous.  "Well I'm not your grandmother."

            Azar leaned her head on his shoulder.  "And it's a good thing, too, or I would marry you and become my own grandpa."

            A ghost of a smile passed over Harry's face and he leaned his head onto hers, glad she was there.  His mind suddenly free from self-pity, he seemed to finally realize exactly what he'd done.

            "Guess I frightened a few people in there," he said with a great sigh.

            "Let's just say you'll have little trouble bumping into anyone in the halls."

            "Draco least of all.  Think he'll ever forgive me?"

            "Sure.  Not before we're out of Hogwarts, of course, but hopefully sometime within this century."  She gave a sudden laugh as a thought struck her mind.  "You know, it's been a while since Ron pounded on Draco, so I bet he really saw it coming."

            "But not from me.  Did I…did I hurt him?"

            Azar shook her head.  "Not really.  You scared him plenty, though.  You're normally not the type of person to let your anger get the better of you."

            "I know," he said, sitting up straight.  "It's just…  It's so unfair!  My life seems nothing but one horrible experience after another.  I can't take it!"

            Azar smiled slightly.  "I certainly hope your life hasn't been nothing but horrible experiences."

            "Well, no, of course it hasn't.  But it's had more than its fair share."

            "I know," she said, gently tucking some of his hair behind his ear.  "There are times when bad things happen, terrible, terrible things.  You— …We just have to remember that the world still has beautiful things.  There's little sense in anger when it's about the past."

            Harry smiled slightly, turning towards her.  "You're quite the philosopher."

            She grinned broadly.  "It comes and goes."

****

            When Harry ran out of the room, Azar right behind him, Ron flew into action.  He stormed over to Draco, hoisting him to his feet by his robe collar and growling, "We need to talk."

            Without waiting for an answer, or releasing his hold on Draco's clothes, Ron stomped out of the Great Hall, Slytherin in tow.  He turned down a small corridor and stopped, shoving Draco against the wall.

            "What was that?!" he yelled, glaring.

            "I…I—"

            "You know how Harry is struggling with this, and you go and hurt him like that!"

            "If you'll remember, I was the one that was getting pummeled, you louse!" Draco shot back, instinctively going into defense mode.

            "It's less than what you deserve, prat!" Ron yelled.

            "Weasel!"

            "Ferret!"

            "Fine, we're agreed; you're both rodents."

            Ron and Draco froze, turning to find Hermione standing with her arms crossed.

            "Good, that shut you up," she said matter-of-factly.  "Care to try and discuss this as opposed to yelling loud enough for the whole Hall to hear?"

            Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione held up her hand.  "Rhetorical question, Ron.  Hup, no, shush, let me speak."

            Her eyes turned to Draco now, and he realized that he preferred Ron's ranting to Hermione's even gaze.  Though she had been acting as the voice of reason, there was something in her eyes that revealed the confusion she felt.  It took her a while to speak up.

            "Draco, why do you say such things?"

            "I don't really mean to," he said quietly.  "It just came out."

            "Well I suggest you start thinking before things 'come out'.  Harry needs our support right now, not jokes."

            "Jokes would actually do a world of good," Draco insisted. "I'm just not very good at the nice ones."

            "No argument here," Ron said sullenly, hushing up with one look from Hermione.

            "In any case, I want to make this perfectly clear to both of you," she said, suddenly becoming very stern, her eyes flashing with a warning.  "Harry's nerves are in a balancing act right now, and the slightest breeze can do great harm.  He's no different than he was before, so don't treat him like that.  At the same time, be aware of his surroundings when you're walking with him.  Warn him when any person or thing blocks his way, but not in a condescending way.  Use whatever little tact you possess and above all, be his friend.  Understood?"

            The two boys nodded silently, not daring to say a word or hardly to breathe.  With a swift, firm nod, Hermione walked brusquely away.  Draco and Ron stood in silence for a while.

            "I don't know about you," Ron said quietly as though afraid Hermione was still within earshot, "but I thought she was going to eat us."

            Draco snorted, and Ron grinned broadly.  The smile on Draco's face faltered slightly, and he looked up at Ron.

            "Ron, I want to apologize about a couple days ago.  I shouldn't have jumped on you like that; it was a Skeeter article, after all.  I should know better than to trust the truth of those."

            Ron shrugged.  "It's not your fault.  I probably would have suspected me, too."

            Draco took a deep breath to show he wasn't finished, and it was clear that this second part was a lot harder to get out.

            "Ron, there's something else I've been meaning to talk to you about:  Hermione."

            Ron's eyes lost the joking spark they had held, graying instantly.  "Yes?"

            "I think you'll agree neither of us have really acted in the best way concerning her.  I, especially, wasn't really recognizing her feelings.  I know that I am attracted to her; I'm sure you will agree that she is quite beautiful.  And I'm sure that, even if in the smallest amount, she has some attraction to me.  But that's where it stops for her.  She could never see me as something more than a friend, and I'm beginning to see that I might feel the same way."

            Ron blinked, quite slowly, and then said in a voice that sounded oddly like a frog's, "What?"

            Draco, despite the circumstances, could barely hold back a smile.  "I'm no longer going to try and convince her that she loves me and not you.  She's made her choice, so now you can go ride of into the sunset, live happily ever after, and all that rot."

            Ron gaped a moment, as though he were sure all this had to be some elaborate dream or trick.  "You…you're giving in?  A Malfoy conceding to a Weasley?"

            Draco shrugged.  "I guess it's a bit of a habit of mine to break tradition.  Besides, since your mum is so keen on me, I've already got someone to take Hermione's place."

            Ron gave him a stern look.  "That's not funny."

            "Really?"  Draco grinned. "I thought it was quite amusing."

****

            There was a Hogsmeade visit scheduled for that weekend, and the group decided it would be a nice chance for a break.  It was a gray morning, the rain coming down in a cold, misty fog, causing the streets to be quite empty and the businesses to be quite full.  After leaving Honeyduke's with pockets overflowing with sweets, Ron suggested they head over to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to visit Fred and George.  Besides, it would be a good time for him to use the fireplace and go buy a new wand.

            The five entered the small shop to find utter pandemonium.  The Wheezes had become the only place for mischief, making up in popularity what it lacked in size.  You couldn't even breathe without bumping into someone wearing Hogwarts' robes.  The noise was deafening as jokes were tried out, followed by the laughter when they worked quite successfully.  And among it all was George, trying to control the crowd and having about as much luck as a child would with a tornado.  He wasn't exactly looking his best:  heavy bags rested under his eyes and his hair looked as though he'd just got up.

            "Oi!  George!  Having trouble?" Ron called, grinning broadly.

            "For Christ's sake, Ron, I already have one idiotic brother to annoy me, don't make it two," George said, turning around and giving his younger brother a sharp look through his glasses.

            This didn't faze Ron at all.  "What's Fred done?"

            "Nothing!  That's just it!" George cried, throwing his arms up in the air and not caring that he hit a good many customers in the process.  "This is the third day he's slept in this week, and normally I wouldn't mind, but on a Hogsmeade visit!  Not to mention that he and his girl kept me up all night, no matter how many pillows I stuck over my ears."

            "Oh, come off it, George, you're just jealous," Fred said, stumbling down the stairs.

            "I'm all for having a riotous night, Fred, but not at the expense of business," George said, glaring.

            "You're worse than Mum," Fred replied, giving a tired yawn.

            George just shook his head, turning back to the customers.  Deciding to ask the Weasley twin in the best spirits, Ron turned to Fred.

            "Fred, could I borrow a bit of Floo powder?  I need to get to Diagon Alley and buy a wand."

            Fred yawned wide, waving an arm at his brother.  "Sure, yeah, go ahead."

            "I'm gonna go use the fireplace in the back," Ron told his friends.  "Feel free to leave without me.  I'll meet up with you at the Three Broomsticks if you're gone."

            As Ron went through the door to the back room, however, it became apparent that the remaining four had no intention of leaving any time soon.  Azar felt as though she was in heaven, rushing from shelf to shelf with shining eyes.  As soon as he'd woken up completely, Fred became an excellent guide, demonstrating all their latest inventions and whispering information about a few they had in the works.

            Harry soon separated from the others, feeling a bit left out when all he heard was "Oh wow!" and "I can't wait to try that on my aunt!"  He wound his way toward the back of the store and found the door he assumed Ron had gone through.  Hoping perhaps Ron had returned and they could go to the Three Broomsticks, (you didn't need eyes to enjoy butterbeer, after all) he entered the empty room.

            "Ron?" he said, half-hopefully.  There was no response.

            Instead of going back, he came in the room completely and closed the door behind him.  It was strange how the noise in the first room was stifled into a gentle murmur here.  Harry walked in slowly, feeling around the shelves.  It appeared to be a storage room.  He stood alone for a while, relishing the silence.  Suddenly, a loud noise came from right behind him, causing him to spin around.  He ran right into someone, giving a cry of surprise.  The person imitated the exclamation and Harry recognized the voice as Ron's.

            "Don't sneak up on me like that!" Harry laughed.

            "Same to you!" Ron said, trying to sound light-hearted but a slight quaver to his voice.  "What are you doing back here?"

            "Looking for you, actually.  What about you?"

            "Er…just grabbing something Fred needed.  C'mon, let's go back to the front."

            There was an awkward lilt to Ron's voice and as they left the room, Harry was sure that Ron hadn't taken anything from the room.  Ron seemed to sense this confusion and spoke up.

            "Just got back from getting my wand," he said cheerfully.  "Wanna s…  Here.  Fourteen and a half inches, mahogany, dragon heartstring.  Ollivander was quite nice about it, though he did say I was the most careless customer he's ever had, and that I should take as good care of my wand as Harry Potter, who, despite many perils, seems to be able to keep his intact."

            Harry laughed loud as they made their way to Azar, Draco, and Hermione.

            "C'mon, let's go to the Three Broomsticks.  I'm hungry for a butterbeer," Ron said, nodding to the door.

            "Oh, do we have to go?"

            "Honestly, Azar, you sound like a child," Hermione laughed.

            "I feel like one, too.  One in a candy store."

            "Hey, come back whenever you feel like it!" Fred called as they made for the door.

            "And if you feel like having a job next year, Lord knows we could use the help.  Especially since we're thinking of starting a mail order," George added.

            "I'll definitely keep that in mind," Ron assured them.

            Having finally managed getting through the door, the friends headed for the Three Broomsticks, huddling close together against the cold and rain.

****

            "So they're still not sure why exactly it didn't work?" Ron asked tentatively.

            "No," Harry sighed, bowing his head slightly in thought.  "We did everything right, as far as we know, and the spell went on as it was supposed to.  It just didn't end the right way."

            They were on their way to Divination when Ron brought up the meeting Harry went to Sunday.  It hadn't been like other meetings; this one had fewer people, and it was solely about what happened—or more accurately, what went wrong.  As they walked through the halls, Harry insisted that Ron not hold onto his arm, but Ron kept Hermione's orders in mind and was sure to warn Harry of anything that might be of any hindrance.

            "Could it have been because Jame—?"

            Ron regretted the question before he finished it, but Harry didn't make a move as if he noticed this, his head still turned to the floor.

            "It's a possibility," he answered quietly.  "Though as I said, they're not sure."

            "Stairs," Ron warned as they continued on.  Then, hesitantly, "Harry?  There's something I wanted to talk to you about.  I wasn't really sure, but Hermione said I really should.  I talked to Percy the day…well, that night, and he was acting really weird.  He warned me against doing anything stupid, and then he said he was going to be leaving within a year, and that he'd be taking someone with him."

            Simply out of habit, Harry's eyes looked up and turned to Ron.

            "Taking someone with him?  What does he mean by that?"

            Ron shrugged hopelessly.  "How should I know?  Though I'm pretty sure it doesn't mean he'll go out in a blaze of gunfire.  In any case, I haven't seen him since.  I think he's avoiding the subject."

            Harry nodded slowly, his head going back into its hanging/thinking position.  Ron was about to tell him to watch out for the trick step when Harry leapt right over it.  His friend was so shocked he forgot himself and hit the step, his leg falling through.  After Harry helped him back out, Ron was still gaping.

            "You…you jumped the step yourself."

            "Of course," Harry said with a laugh.  "I've been in this castle for more than six years now; I would hope I'd know a few of its surprises."

            "But before…you—"

            "I know," he smiled.  "It just took me a while to remember I know this place."

~*~*~

A/N:  Yeah, yeah, I know I didn't particularly answer any questions, but I gave a good number of hints, so that'll have to suffice.  I'm sorry if the Skeeter article didn't sound sufficiently…Skeeterish; I write for my school paper and have trouble making an article…Skeeterish. ^_^

            Let's see…  I think next chapter we should reach Christmas…possibly. ^_^  I never know with me.

            Ooh, ooh, have you all seen the covers for The Order of the Phoenix?????  Isn't the American one simply gorgeous?  *sighs happily*  It replaced a nummy Sirius reclining on his motorbike as my desktop wallpaper, so that shows how absolutely happy I am. ^_^

            Thank you everyone who reviewed Chapter 21!!!  (Heehee, 21, very good number that. (And if you have to ask why, shame on you!))

**Liliana-Suger:**  Oh, wow, thanks!  I appreciate recommendations so much!  *bows*

**Jeanne:**  Yeah, I'm sorry, I knew it was short.  This one is a bit longer, so I hope you like. ^_^  Erm, no, wasn't really planning to go too much more into Arthur's life.  A bit, but not that much.  Foreshadowing?  Me?  Never. ^_^  Heehee, I'm inspiration!  Yah!  …erm, heh, I think I'll have to sneak over and steal your butcher knife.  (Beware the tree with tennis shoes! *rofl*)  Don't be a puddle of mush!  Puddles of mush can't write very easily! ^_^  If I told you that, I'd have to kill you, dear.  You'll find out eventually. ^_^  Thank you!

**Trisana:**  LOL!  Well, I promise that if Hermione dies, I'll try to slip in a wonderful witch coming into Ron's life, one whose name just happens to be Trisana. ^_^  Thanks!

**jona:**  lol  Jo, you flatter me too much.  Thanks! *beams*

**Lyddi:**  Thanks!

**Starry:**  Thanks!

**abbey:**  Why thank you.  I did have the Dark Mark in my tea leaves, after all. ^_^  Thanks!

**Sonata:**  *thumbs up back*  lol, I'm afraid the article might have been a let down.  Dang, how in the word does JK do it?  Gracias. ~_^

**Shrimpo/Jewels:**  Thanks!

**RC:**  LOL  I must say, it's been quite enjoyable to see your reviews popping up on my email. (Through review alert.)  Let me thank you very much for reading my other stories!  Thanks! ^_^

            And that's the end of that chapter. *dusts off hands*

            I have one quick thing to add.  I know that the war with Iraq is something that's on everyone's minds right now.  However, I would ask that here it not exist.  I won't go off giving my opinion of it and I ask that you do the same.  This is a place for Potter only! ^_^  If you really, truly, for whatever strange reason (~_^) want my opinion on it, my email is always open:  adyremard@yahoo.com

            Love you all!

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady


	23. The Second Holiday

Chapter 23:  The Second Holiday

            November eighteenth, Harry walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts without his glasses on.  He'd missed breakfast that morning, telling Ron he wasn't hungry and that he'd see him in class.  He walked in a few minutes late and Connerly, busy discussing the lesson, simply held her hand out like she was expecting something.  Harry walked forward uncertainly, stopping when he bumped into her hand, and Connerly was forced to stop her lesson and turn to him.

            "Do you need—Oh!"  Connerly's eyes widened in surprise.  "Mr. Potter, I didn't recognize you, sorry.  Just have a seat; we're discussing spells to deflect the effects of dark potions."

            "Over here, Harry; I saved you a seat next to me," Azar called cheerfully, though her eyes held a hint of worry.

            Harry headed over, Azar switching seats as quietly as she could and then grabbing his hand to sit him down.  Connerly continued with her discussion, ignoring the students who kept glancing at Harry for the next five minutes.

            Quietly whispering into his ear, Azar said, "Hey, why aren't you wearing your glasses?"

            Harry shrugged.  "I don't need them any more, after all, so it just seemed like the right thing to do."

            Azar dropped the topic there, though Harry's mind didn't.  He'd made his voice sound careless, as though leaving his glasses in his dormitory was the easiest thing in the world.  The reason he'd missed breakfast and the start of class, however, was because it wasn't.  He chided himself for putting so much weight on the action, but he couldn't help it.  It felt like he was giving up, and he wasn't too sure that he wasn't.

            At the end of class, Harry, Ron, and Hermione said good-bye to Azar and met up with Draco on the way to Care of Magical Creatures.  Draco glanced questioningly at Harry but didn't say a word.

            "We have a Quidditch match Friday," Ron remarked tentatively as they headed out onto the cold grounds.

            Hermione shot him an angry look, but Ron just scowled back at her.

            "I was just thinking," Ron continued, "that if you weren't better by then, Harry…well—"

            "You're right," Harry said quickly.  "I should have got a backup long ago.  It shouldn't be too hard, though; at tryouts I noticed a couple people I was going to point out to Bella as possible future seekers."

            The other three were quiet, half surprised at the ease with which Harry spoke of not playing in the game.

            "Though of course they'll only be a temporary," Ron said quickly.  "We won't need one long."

            Harry smiled slightly, though it didn't mirror in his eyes.  He knew Ron was trying to make him feel better but it just made everything awkward.  Initially, he could have sworn that Snape's potion was working, that his eyesight was becoming clearer.  Yet over time, even though he religiously had a goblet full of the cold draught every evening, he realized now that there was no difference.  There would be no difference.

            As they approached Hagrid's hut, they saw that the rest of the class was already there.  They'd only been there for a moment when Hagrid came from around back, carrying a box.  He set it down and spotted the new arrivals.

            "All righ' there, you three?" he smiled.

            "Hello, Hagrid," Hermione said.

            Quietly, Draco blended in with the rest of the class, knowing he wasn't part of the conversation.  As the the students grew louder, Hagrid's voice suddenly boomed above them.

            "Alrigh', class, quiet down.  Yes, well, I know yeh've enjoyed workin' with the malaclaws but I've decided ter move onto another creature," he said, to the relief of all.

            "It's about time," Dean muttered.  "They always seemed to get a bite off me.  I kept failing my Potions tests."

            "Don't think that had anything to do with bad luck, mate.  Hey, now I'll be able to place a bet on the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game," Seamus said happily.

            "Instead we'll be takin' care of a few young murtlaps," Hagrid continued, taking the lid off the box.  Inside were a large number of tiny, rat-like creatures that looked only a few days old, squirming and making little peeping noises.  A chorus of coos came from some of the girls.  "Righ' now they're blind and don't haf the spines on their backs, but yeh migh' want ter bring yer dragon-hide gloves ter later classes, and thick shoes so they don' eat yer feet."

            Those that had cooed before now looked a little shocked.  Hagrid began to carefully pass out one murtlap to each student, each creature in a sixty by forty centimeter box.  They did look remarkably like rats, though they had no tails.

            "Later," Hagrid said when he was done, "we'll learn how ter harvest the spines they'll grow, bu' today yeh need to create a nest for them in their boxes.  I've got grasses here fer yeh to make 'em with.  They're babies, remember, so make yer nests soft."

            Harry found this to be a much better assignment than any they'd had with the malaclaws.  He was able to do it himself without worrying about getting bit so many times that he rivaled Neville Longbottom as "Gryffindor's most accident prone."  Making the nest was particularly easy for another reason:  it relied on touch.  When the end of class came and Hagrid looked over their nests, he declared Harry's as the closest to what a mother murtlap would have made, clapping his hand on Harry's back in congratulation.

            After dinner, Harry headed alone to the Forbidden Forest.  It wasn't really for the sake of being alone, but to keep away from his dormitory.  He'd left his glasses on his bedside table.  During lunch, he'd gone up and fingered them a moment, almost putting them on.  Best to keep away from them; he didn't want to deal with the temptation.  But he couldn't put them in a more permanent place either.  Not yet.

            Harry sat under the first tree he found.  It didn't really matter whether or not someone saw him; he wasn't trying to hide.  He'd had a good deal of time to think over the past weeks and there was something he wanted to do, had wanted to do since near the end of last year.  Closing his eyes, he concentrated hard on absolutely nothing.  The calm swept over him as it had … Was it really six months ago?  The few leaves that remained gasped with every breath of wind and their branches creaked upon themselves like the bones of old men, but the voices were still there, though so much older.

            "Harry?"

            He jumped slightly, his eyes snapping open.  His neck was sore and he realized that the light that he could see was much darker than when he last saw it.  It was night.  For a while, he wondered if he'd simply dreamed that someone had said his name.  Any question was pushed from his mind as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

            "Upsy-daisies, Harry legs."

            Harry smiled, letting Azar help him up from his reclined position by the tree.  "Sorry.  Guess I fell asleep."

            "Would seem so.  Ron and Hermione have been searching everywhere for you.  Apparently you have a Quidditch team meeting to get to."

            Harry's eyes widened.  "Have I really slept that long?!"

            He and Azar raced up to the castle and to the Gryffindor tower, leaving the trees behind.

            That night, the Gryffindor team had a quick discussion about a replacement seeker, after which Bella Arroz spoke to three Gryffindors about trying out tomorrow.  They jumped at the chance.  Harry was going to go to the tryout, but he knew he'd be of little use.  The next day, as he sat listening to the three prospects try out, he couldn't help but feel that it was a horrible way to waste an afternoon.  It was eventually decided that, although she seemed terribly hyper, tiny third-year Tyler Beckston was the best choice as his replacement.

            Friday came quickly and for the first time, Harry found himself in the stands for a Gryffindor game.  He probably didn't breathe through the whole game.  After their loss to Slytherin, Harry knew they had to keep a winning streak if they wanted the Cup.  However, his worries were in vain.  Gryffindor trounced Hufflepuff.  After the Chasers took a commanding lead for the team, Tyler caught the snitch like she'd been born to do it.  Of course, it probably helped that she owned a Quasar II, the fastest broom model yet.  (Harry noticed that "the fastest broom in the world!" seemed to change each year.)  Despite the win, Harry just didn't feel ecstatic.  It was a lot different, straining to hear Moon's commentary over the cheers, as opposed to snatching up the snitch right before the opposing seeker caught it.

            After the game, Harry gladly joined Azar in the library to write a History of Magic essay despite the late time.  She'd found a convenient charm that allowed him to write straight and keep within the parchment, for which he was mostly grateful.

            "Ug," he groaned after a few hours, rotating his wrist with a loud pop.  "What's the use of being blind if you find a way to make me write my essays, Azar?"

            She gave a laugh, shaking her head and continuing with her own writing.  Harry didn't go back to work but just sat a moment, thinking.  After a while he said, "There's no hope, is there?"

            "That you'll get that essay done on time?" Azar asked.  "No, I'm afraid not."

            Harry didn't feel like laughing.  "There's no hope that I'll get my sight back."

            The scratching of Azar's quill on her parchment ended abruptly.  She was silent for a moment.  "Well, what if there isn't?"

            "I don't know.  But…well, I guess there isn't any hope, really.  I've stopped hoping, anyways."

            Azar put her hand firmly over Harry's eyes, causing him to jump.

            "Wha—"

            "Harry James Potter," she boomed importantly, "I release you from this demon!  Open your eyes!"

            Harry laughed, complying with her command as she removed her hand.

            "There," Azar said with satisfaction.

            "Hate to tell you this, Azar, but I'm still blind," Harry said with a smile.

            Azar rested her forehead on his.  "Only if you choose to be.  And I've never known Harry Potter to be one to hide in a corner and say he had no other choice."

            Harry leaned forward slightly, kissing her.

            "A-hem."

            They pulled apart to find Madam Pince staring down at them with a nasty glare.  "The library is a place of study, not snogging.  And it is closing even for those who use it for its proper purpose, so I suggest you get back to your houses."

            "I'd bet anything she and Madam Pomfrey are related," Azar muttered as she walked with Harry to the portrait of the Fat Lady.  "They've even got the same first name."

            Harry laughed hard at this, thinking that by the end of the year Azar would probably begrudge every adult that kept an eye out for "rule-breakers."  When they reached the portrait, Azar gave him a quick kiss.

            "Harry, I've got a favor to ask you."

            "What?"

            "Wear your glasses tomorrow."

            Harry's face fell slightly.  "Azar…"

            "Just do.  I miss them terribly."

            She gave his hand a squeeze and then headed down the hall.  With a sigh, Harry headed up to his dormitory.  He didn't fall asleep for a good many hours.

            Harry woke up a little early the next morning and really wished he'd managed to stay asleep a little bit longer.  There was no use trying to drift off again now, though, so he just lay there, staring up at the red blur that was his bed curtains.  …Red curtains?

            In a flash, Harry sat bolt upright.  Red.  There was red everywhere.  His heart pounding, he frantically reached for the curtains.   His glasses.   He had to get his glasses.  At the sight of his hand, however, he froze.  It was a peach blur coming out of a purple one.  Purple?  Who the hell had dressed him in purple pajamas?!

            Suddenly remembering his purpose for reaching forward, Harry's glasses were soon shoved on his face.  His eyes searched the room.  There was the dormitory, how it had always been, though a little more blurry than he remembered.  Feeling ready to explode with joy, Harry yelled as loud as his lungs allowed.

            Grunts of surprise and bitter moans came from the beds of his roommates, and after a good deal of scuffling, Ron nearly fell out of his bed, grabbing his side table to keep his balance.

            "Harry!" he said breathlessly.  "Harry, what is it?!"

            "You have red hair," Harry laughed, tears coming to his eyes.

            "What?" Ron said, grabbing a chunk of hair as though to check that it was still there.

            "You have red hair," Harry repeated, his voice quivering, "and you're wearing those dark green pajamas Hermione bought you for your birthday. … Ron, I can see."

****

            It was a Saturday to remember.  News spread fast around the school: the latest miracle in the blessed life of Harry Potter.  Gryffindors took it to be a great excuse to have another party that night.  In that moment when the news was first heard, however, it was met with much less fanfare.  Ron just stared, unable to digest what he had just heard.  Harry, on the other hand, ran.  Without so much as putting on a sock, Harry burst out of Gryffindor tower and flew down the halls as fast as his legs could move, laughing and crying.  He sped by a number of his fully-clothed peers who stared after the purple blur and weren't quite sure if it really had been Harry Potter.  He came to the Ravenclaw pillar in time to dodge around a shocked fourth-year on her way to breakfast, racing into the common room and up the stairway.  It was there he nearly plowed right into the very person he was running to.

            "Harry!" Azar said, shocked at meeting one of the last people she expected to be on her stairwell.  "What are you doing here?  
            "You're wearing your robes and those bright blue tennis shoes that have holes in the bottoms," he said breathlessly, his eyes shining.  "And your Prefect badge is pinned on upside-down."

            Azar's face broke into a smile and she took Harry in her arms, crying, "You can see!"

            Harry just nodded, unable to get any words out.

            The definite cause of Harry's recovery was never certain, but, it was reported by some, later that day Sirius Black burst into the office of the Potions professor and embraced him.  Some also remarked that, should some ever be asked about the incident, some will deny having said a word lest some get a goblet full of poison from a hook-nosed man and a nasty bite from a very large and temperamental dog.

            Naturally, Harry found his way to the infirmary soon after visiting the Ravenclaw tower, and after an hour of Madam Pomfrey tapping one frame or the other and saying, "Better or worse?" Harry Potter found himself able to see clearer than ever.

            Homework was completely out of the question.  After the longest party on school record, it was discovered that the morning had brought quite a few centimeters of snow, bringing about the largest snowball fight in school history, all houses participating.  Needless to say, a number of Gryffindors and Slytherins (and a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that got in the way) went off to the infirmary with bruised eyes, swollen lips, and bloody noses after getting hit with ice balls that the throwers "could have sworn they were just snow, honest."  Madam Pomfrey was far from pleased.  Despite the numerous injuries, however, she was just about the only one.

****

            That snowstorm was just the first of many that came sporadically through the first week of December.  Quidditch season was over until spring, Christmas Holiday was close enough to taste, and Easter Holidays, when their workload peaked, was far away.  It was that perfect time of year when the stress of starting school was over and the stress of ending it had yet to begin.  The five friends spent a good deal of their time in the corner of the library farthest away from Madam Pince's desk, doing some homework but mostly talking.  They were doing this the Friday before Christmas Holiday.  As they talked and laughed, Harry noticed that Azar was being particularly quiet.  Yet there was a smile on her face as though she was trying to hold back a bout of evil laughter.

            "Azar, are you hiding something from us?" Harry asked with a smile.

            "Me?" she asked innocently.  "Oh, never."

            "Well, that's a yes," Ron said, taking his feet off the table so he could lean into the conversation.

            Azar's eyes sparkled from one person to the next.  "Can I tell you something?  Something secret?"

            "Of course," Draco said.  "But if you want it to stay a secret, that's another matter."

            "Oh shush, Draco," Hermione scowled.  "Tell us, Azar."

            "I had a prophecy last night."

            Harry felt a little taken aback.  After all, Azar normally kept her prophecies to herself, and even when she didn't, they never seemed cheerful.  In fact, they were often anything but.  She must have understood the look on his face because she said quickly, "Don't worry, this was a good one.  It was about us, all of us, fifteen…at least ten years in the future.  I'm not sure… It came all in bits and pieces, flashes and voices.  But I understood the gist of it."

            "And?" Hermione said eagerly.

            "Oh, wait, you thought I was going to tell you?"

            "Azar!  You can't—"

            Azar laughed, holding her hands up in defense.  "Whoa, ebb the eruption, I was only joking.  You had a little boy, Hermione."

            Hermione blinked, caught off guard.  "What?"

            "You had a little boy," Azar repeated as though trying to hold back giggles.  "At least you were holding him.  I don't know for sure if he was yours.  And Ron, you had a beard!  I couldn't figure out who you were for the longest time!"

            Ron joined Azar's laughter.  Her good mood was awfully catching.

            "What about me?" Draco asked.  "What did I look like?"

            "No, I didn't see you, Draco, but I think I heard your voice.  You said something…well, about a betrothal announcement…"

            "Really?" the Slytherin said, raising an eyebrow in interest.  "Happen to catch a glimpse of the lucky lady?

            Azar laughed and shook her head, her eyes still dancing.  They turned to Harry, meeting his green pair.  "It was your birthday, Harry.  Sirius made a cake.  There was a little boy, not the one Hermione was holding; much older.  He had such a thoughtful face, and tousled black hair and vivid green eyes.  Someone commented on how he looked so much like his fa…well, his predecessor."  Everyone looked at Harry, sort of laughing without making a sound.  "The little boy, I think, was carrying the cake to you so you could blow out the candles, but it looked like he'd already done the job for you."  Her laugh rang even louder at this and Harry joined in.  As a contented silence slowly settled in, Azar added in a wispy sigh, "He really was the sweetest little thing."

            Harry had the strangest mix of absolute terror and elation dancing his stomach, and there was nothing he wanted to know more than whether the boy was his, was possibly even theirs.  The question, however, was too strange to be asked aloud, and Harry was sure that Azar wouldn't be positive as to what the answer was.

            That evening after dinner, Azar "kidnapped" Harry.  In all truth, she simply held her hand over his eyes and led him down the hall, telling him persistently not to peek.  They hadn't gone far when Azar led him through a door, closing it behind him.  Harry was pretty sure they'd just entered an empty classroom.  Before he could say anything, Azar removed her hand, crying, "Happy Christmas, Harry legs!"

            It took Harry's eyes a while to adjust to the dim light of a single candle, but when they did he saw a piece of blue cloth that was clearly covering something that hovered a few feet off the ground.  The something was apparently long and fairly skinny.

            "I wonder what it could be…" Harry mused, beaming at Azar.

            He withdrew the cloth and felt all the color drain from his face.  It was exactly what he expected, yet at the same time nothing at all like he imagined.  Three concentric circles tapered away from where the handle met the tail, the rest of it a deep, shining mahogany.  Harry could swear he almost heard it humming with electricity.  Blazoned on the top of the handle in gold were the words "Quasar II."

            "Azar…"

            "You're welcome," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

            "This costs the same as a small house," he said weakly.

            "If it was made of straw, had no roof, and was situated by the railroad tracks, then yes."

            "Azar—I—You can't!  I can't keep this; it's too much.  Take it back."

            "Harry, you're acting as though I killed someone," she smiled.  "Don't worry.  I got a great deal; my mum's got connections."

            "In the wizarding world?"

            Azar laughed.  "Yes, well, funny story there.  Turns out the Needlebits, our neighbors, are witches and wizards.  Mum accidentally let "Hogwarts" pass her lips once and they were elated.  Mrs. Needlebit evidently works for an owl mail-order gift service thing, and so I got this for about half the price."

            Harry paused, uncertain.  "You're not just telling me this to stop my griping, are you?"

            "Honestly, would I be able to just make up a story like that?"

            "I wouldn't put it past you."

            Azar laughed, hugging him.  "You are a funny, funny boy.  Just tell me you like it."

            "Oh, I do.  It's—wow.  But—"

            "Well, then, my plan worked.  I got you in a good mood." 

            Harry raised an eyebrow.  "And why exactly did you want me in a good mood?"

            Azar smiled innocently.  "So I could ask you to come to my house for Christmas."

            Harry smiled just as sweetly back at her.  "Not on your life."

            "Oh, c'mon, Harry.  My parents are starting to think I made you up."

            Harry bit his lip.  "This summer.  I promise I'll meet them this summer."

            "Harry James Potter, I just can't believe you," she said with mock scold, turning her back on him and folding her arms.

            "Ah, Azar, c—"

            "I'm not speaking to you."

            With a smile, Harry snuck up behind her, figuring a good tickling was just what she needed right now.

            "And just remember this," she warned, "I'll always get you one better, so don't try it."

            "What am I supposed to do, then?" Harry said, slightly put out.

            "Wallow in your agony," Azar said airily, still not turning around.  "Especially when you find out that I had more planned if you were going to come meet my parents."  She gave a great sigh.  "But now I guess I'll never get the chance."

            "Ah, Azar, you can't do that to me.  Just a little hint?"

            "Let's go for a ride," Azar said, turning around and beaming as she ended the topic.  "And don't worry about the cold.  I've got three cloaks."

            "Three?"

            She hurried over and pulled them from a desk.  "See?  Mine, yours, and your other one."  She held up a familiar, shimmery cloak that looked like water spun into cloth.  Harry stared at her with a slack jaw.

            "You know, I didn't tell you the Gryffindor password so you could sneak in and take me stuff."

            "I know.  It's just an added bonus," she said, clasping his cloak around him.  "So, let's go!"

            "Guess I don't really have any other choice."

            "Would you want another choice?"

            "Maybe," he smiled, bobbing an eyebrow at her.  "But this'll do."

            After mounting, they made sure the invisibility cloak covered them completely.

            "Ready?" Harry asked.

            "Ready."

            They pushed off and out the window, and instantly Harry brought the Quasar into a dive as though they were simply falling.  He gave a loud whoop and heard Azar echo it behind him.  At the last moment, he pulled up.  The response of the broom caught him off guard at first, causing them to shoot straight up, but he quickly steadied it.

            "Did I scare you?" Harry called back.

            "Not in the least!" Azar laughed.  "I know my Harry legs would never let me get hurt."

            As though to prove her wrong, Harry dived back down, heading for the lake.  He pulled up so they rode just above the surface, skimming the lake with their toes.  Azar laughed, exposing a foot to try and splash Harry, though the cloak protected him.

            "You know," she said slyly, "just a simple push and you'd be soaking."

            Harry stared back at her in surprise.  Why did this seem so familiar?

            "Harry?"

            He shook his head to get out of his thoughts.  "I was just wondering how you'd achieve that when we're on the same broom and under the same cloak.  I'd be taking you with me."

            "Good point."

            They stayed out till well past midnight, when Harry dropped Azar off at her dormitory window.  As she stepped through, one of her roommates stirred, waking and looking at them.  For a long time, she stared at the two, who stared right back.  Then, with a low moan, the girl closed her eyes, rolled over, and went back to bed.  Harry and Azar had to stifle their laughter.

            "Ten galleons says she'll wake up tomorrow and tell me she had the 'strangest dream' about me," Azar whispered.

            "I never bet against a sure thing," Harry smiled.

            They kissed, and then Harry rode back to Gryffindor Tower to spend the rest of the night staring happily at the ceiling.

****

            When Harry and Ron came up to the dormitory Sunday night, laughing and talking, they opened the door to find Percy staring pensively at Dean's football poster.

            "Percy!  Hallo!" Ron said, smiling.

            His brother gave him an odd look, but returned the greeting.

            "So what brings you to your old haunts?" Ron asked, plopping down on his bed.

            "Harry, actually," Percy replied, his mien softening and turning to Harry.  "I just heard you got your sight back.  I'm glad."

            "Thanks," Harry said with a smile.

            "You only now heard?" Ron asked incredulously.

            "I've been very busy, Ronald."

            The conversation he and Ron had what seemed so long ago suddenly struck Harry, as did the question he wanted an answer to.  "Percy," he said tentatively, "what do you mean by 'taking someone with you'?"

            Percy suddenly became quite awkward.  Ron perked up, as though he'd completely forgotten about all that.  It was a while before they got an answer.  "I…I don't know if I'm allowed to tell you."

            "You're dead, Percy," Ron scoffed.  "Honestly, how can you get punished beyond that?"

            Percy gave him a not-amused look.  "I meant exactly what I said:  when I go, someone will be coming with me.  Someone who's alive right now."

            "Who?" Harry asked, his eyes wide.

            "I don't know."

            "Oh, come off it, Percy!" Ron insisted, going a bit red in the face.  "Just tell us."

            "I really don't know, Ron!" Percy said testily.  "All I know is that guides are sent to bring someone back whom they know.  It could be just about anybody, or even nobody, but there's still a good chance.  That's why I warned you, Ron.  And Harry would do well to follow the same advice."

            "What?" Ron said, holding up a hand to halt the conversation.  "It could be nobody?  Aren't you working for someone who's supposed to know when people are about to die?"

            Percy gave a condescending look that could only come from an older brother.  "Look, it took me a year to prepare for this job.  When I finally come, I have, at most, one year to wait, no exceptions.  Whether someone dies or lives depends a good deal on choices.  As people have a tendency to change their minds, I'm prepared for any outcome.  My greatest hope is that I return alone, which is why I am telling you again, Ron:  don't do anything stupid."

            Ron rolled his eyes.  "I think I'm able to take care of myself.  After all, you taught me how…"  His eyes suddenly glanced at Harry, his voice fading a moment.  "…er, how not…to be unsmart."

            Percy gave him a dark look and the brothers proceeded to have a silent argument over something they apparently didn't want Harry to know about.

            "What are you two hiding?" he asked outright, sick of being in the dark.

            Ron shrugged.  "Nothing."

            "It's just a family thing," Percy added.

            Harry shook his head, but let it drop.  "Well, here's hoping your job fails completely, Percy," he said cheerily.

            Percy gave a laugh.  "Yes, I certainly hope that will be the case."

            "Well, it shouldn't be me.  Taking your younger brother would be just plain rude."  Ron smiled broadly.

            Percy gave him a weary look.  "Ronald, I'm a guide.  Guides don't practice favoritism."

****

            The day for students to leave for Christmas Holidays arrived seemingly in a blink.  Azar was the only one of the five going home.  Hermione had told her parents that she wanted her last Christmas at Hogwarts to be spent at Hogwarts.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were off to Romania for the holiday, Charlie still at work and Bill having business with the Romanian Minister of Magic.  Ron didn't feel like joining them; whenever he talked with his parents, Percy sat heavily on his mind.  Harry and Draco, naturally, had no place else to go.  The rest of Gryffindor was conveniently going home, so Harry and Ron asked Draco if he wanted to room with them over the holidays.  The Slytherin gladly accepted.

            The five stood out in the snow, dressed in heavy cloaks as a light snow fell, saying their good-bye-for-nows.  Azar had lined them up, insisting that she wanted to do things "properly."

            "See ya, Hermione," Azar said, hugging the girl tightly then pulling away.  "Still got it?"

            "Always," Hermione said with a grin to indicate this was some great joke that the boys could never understand.

            Azar laughed.  "Be sure to explore.  There are many roads to choose.  But also know where you want to end up."

            Hermione looked slightly confused, but let it pass.  Azar then turned to Ron, who held his hand out for her to shake it.

            "Oh, don't think you'll just get away with that!" she exclaimed, embracing him.

            When she let go, Ron was wearing a sheepish grin.

            "Be strong," she told him.  "Stand by your beliefs, and your friends.  Don't forget who you are."

            "Come off it, Azar," he said, half between laughter and embarrassment.  "You make it sound like I'm going off to university."

            "Sorry," she said with a smile.  "Just feeling a bit wistful, I guess."

            Draco was next.  She hugged him tightly.

            "Be good, okay?" she asked him.  "And watch after Harry.  Make sure he doesn't get into any trouble."

            Draco grinned at her.  "I'll be sure to."

            She beamed, turning to Harry.  He smiled slightly, and she wrapped her arms around him so suddenly, he almost had the air knocked out of him.  But he just embraced her back, closing his eyes and burying his nose in her hair, as though trying to hold onto this one moment for an eternity.  She tilted her head back, looking at him, and he leaned forward, kissing her.  After a few moments, Azar pulled away reluctantly, looking at him with half-closed eyes.  "I'm going to miss your kiss so much while I'm gone."

            "If it's any consolation," he said with a smile, "I promise I'll never wash this mouth again.  Well, at least until after you come back."

            "At which point I will faint from the stench," Azar said with a laugh.

            "Okay, so maybe I should."

            "Good idea," she agreed, tapping his nose.

            "And I promise I'll give you your gift once you get back."

            "Oh yeah?  You're just doing that so it can be my birthday gift, too."

            "Am I that transparent?" he grinned.

            Azar shook her head with a laugh.  Then reluctantly, she backed away.  "I guess I should go," she said, a little melancholy, walking towards the carriages.

            "'Bye, Azar," Ron said, cocking his head to the side.

            "We'll miss you terribly," Hermione smiled.

            "Later, Fate," Draco called.

            "Later, Dragon," Azar called back.

            Her eyes met Harry's before she went to step in the carriage.  He gave her a small smile, waving slightly.  She hesitated a moment, then suddenly sprinted back to him, flinging her arms around his neck and planting her lips on his.  Harry got over his shock quickly, but it returned just as swift.  Her kiss was strong, fervent even.  One of her hands clung almost painfully to his back, while the other tangled itself in his hair.  It was all a little more zealous than he was used to.

            "Azar," he said, pulling back slightly, "Um…"

            He nodded his head towards their friends, who were all trying to act as though they hadn't seen a thing.  Azar sighed, dropping her eyes.

            "I know, sorry, it's just…"

            She broke off, tears coming to her eyes.  Harry was slightly alarmed, wondering if there was something she wasn't telling him.

            "Hey, Azar," he said quietly, holding her face in his hands.  "Don't cry.  Please don't cry."

            "I'm just going to miss you so much," she sighed, trying to control her tears.

            "You'll be back soon.  It's not like we're going to be apart forever," he assured her.

            She smiled, eyes still shining.  "Yeah, I guess not."  She looked at all of them, giving a laugh.  "I just feel so left out!  You all get to spend Christmas together!"

            "Then stay," Draco suggested.

            Azar shook her head.  "I miss my family, too.  Why couldn't you all just come to my house, huh?"

            "Know what?" Harry said determinedly.  "Next Christmas, I promise we'll be together, no matter what.  Even if it means meeting your entire family."

            She laughed.  "I'll hold you to that."

            Giving Harry one last kiss, she finally entered the carriage and it took off.  She waved for a long time, till the snowfall swallowed the carriage up.  Long after she disappeared, the four stared after her, standing in the cold.

            "I don't know about you, but I'm freezing," Ron finally said.  There was a long pause, then he piped up again.  "First one to the common room gets the chair by the fire."

            They all glanced at each other and then, as if reacting to some silent signal, they scrambled for the door, trying to get ahead of the others.  They took the stairs by threes, running down the halls and filling the empty castle with laughter.

****

            When Harry woke up Christmas morning, he wasn't exactly sure why.  Gradually, however, he recognized that there was a loud clanging echoing throughout the tower.  It sounded strangely like his old school's fire alarm…

            He shot straight out of bed, snatching up his glasses and yelling, "Ron!  Draco!  Get up!  FIRE!!!"

            Ron apparently hadn't heard the loud bell, groggily sticking his head out of his curtains with a hoarse, "Wha…?"

            Harry snatched his hand, yanking him out of bed.  Then he quickly turned to find that Draco had already woken up and seemed to have been in the process of dressing; he stood shirtless, his hands over his ears.

            "What the hell is that noise?" he yelled as he spotted Harry.

            "Fire!" Harry said quickly, snatching Draco's arm and then bolting out of the dormitory.

            The three stumbled down the stairs, Ron and Draco objecting to the retreat while Harry simply ignored them in a panic.  He came to a screeching halt, however, when he entered the common room and finally saw the source of the noise.  There was a large bell, suspended in midair and ringing as though it was the apocalypse.  Instantly, when they entered, it stopped.

            "Happy Christmas!" Remus Lupin and Sirius Black said simultaneously, beaming wide at the blurry-eyed boys.

            "You have got to be joking," Ron said in a monotone, his neck hunched.

            "Sorry for the rude awakening—well, not sorry, but you get the idea," Sirius laughed, slapping Ron on the back.

            "I thought it was a fire alarm," Harry said in disbelief.

            Sirius looked a bit confused, then turned to Remus.

            "It's something Muggles use to detect smoke.  It gives off a loud ringing sound," he explained.  "I would have thought Harry would have realized that one wouldn't work at Hog—"

            Suddenly, they heard a loud scrambling from the girls' staircase.  They all turned to find Hermione—Crookshanks in one hand, a stack of books in the other—practically falling down the stairs.  She halted as soon as she spotted the others, however, staring.

            "What's going on?" she asked, a little breathless.

            "Sorry, Hermione," Sirius smiled, taking the bell from its suspended position.  "Just a bit of a practical joke."

            The books came tumbling from Hermione's arms, crashing on the floor.  Crookshanks soon followed, leaping away.

            "Oh, that was rotten!" Hermione cried, her hands on her hips.  "I could just shoot you!"

            "Ah, but the question is, Hermione, with what?" Remus said with a smile.

            "Easy, Moony," Sirius said nonchalant.  "A silver bullet."

            "Ouch, Padfoot."

            "Yes, I know, I have such a biting wit."

            There was silence a moment, the students still waking up.  "Well," Remus finally said, "since you're already awake, who's up for opening presents?"

            Ron perked up instantly.

            "Here, Harry," Sirius said, handing the bell to his godson.  "It's quite useful when you want to annoy the whole tower every once in a while."

            "Of course, in Padfoot language, 'every once in a while' translates into 'daily'," Remus laughed.

            Hermione finally seemed to take in everyone around her, her eyes resting on Draco.  "Um, Draco, did you plan on coming down like that to blind us or was it just a happy accident?" she said, smiling.

            "Whoa, Draco," Harry said with a laugh, also finally realizing that Draco was currently without shirt.  "A little pale, are we?"

            Color came to Draco's face, but he just smirked, flexing his arms.  "Jealous, Potter?"

            "I'm not sure…  You're too transparent.  I can't tell if you've got any muscle."

            "Here," laughed Ron, tossing Draco a lumpy package that Harry recognized only all too well.  "Stop blinding us, will ya?"

            Draco opened the gift, pulling out a homemade, dark green sweater with a silver snake across the chest.  Almost eagerly, he slipped it on.

            "Well?" he asked, holding his arms out.  "What do you think?"

            "Absolutely beautiful," Hermione smiled.

            "It suits you rather well," Sirius nodded.

            Ron snorted.

            Turning to him, Draco asked with a smirk, "What, Weasley?  Not like it?  Your mum made it, after all."

            "That's what's so funny," Ron said, grinning.  "You always mocked mine, but you seem almost proud of that one."

            "Yours are another matter completely," Draco said loftily.  "Maroon is a horrible color."

            "Something we agree on," Ron said grimly.

            Everyone quickly set about opening gifts.  Each found a lumpy package among their gifts.  ("Ug, speaking of maroon.  Honestly, will she ever learn?")  Then, dressed in the traditional Weasley manner, they headed down to breakfast.  The rest of the day passed in a whirl of food, drinks, and celebrating.  After lunch, they headed outside and made use of the plentiful snow.  The arm of Ron's snowman kept falling off, no matter how hard he tried to stick it on.  Dinner was a glorious affair of hot food and wizard crackers, a few professors (including Hagrid and Sirius) singing a very tipsy version of "Deck the Halls."  Finally, groggy and swaying from the abundance of food, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco headed back to the Gryffindor tower and to bed.  Harry fell asleep as soon as his head hit his pillow, not even removing his glasses.

            He found himself in a large house.  There were a good many people gathered around the fireplace, singing and smiling.  A number of small children were curled up on the sofas and floor, sleeping.  Then, behind them all, he spotted Azar.  She was hunched over a glass of eggnog, and he saw her drop something in it.  He had a strong suspicion that it was Tongue Twisting Tonic.

            "Here's your eggnog, Uncle Martin!" she said heartily, turning back towards the group.

            Bam!  Suddenly, the door flew open and across the room.  Screams came from the family.  A torrent of cloaked figures swarmed into the home.  They wore white masks.

            "Avada Kedavra!"

            All was chaos and green lights.  Everyone kept screaming.  Harry felt the panic tear through his whole being.  Azar!  Where was Azar?  As if in answer, Harry's view shifted.  He was in a small bedroom.  Out the door, there was green light.  Inside, Azar snatched up her broom, flung open a window, and soared out.

            "Stop her!"

            Harry turned to find himself facing the vile visage of Lord Voldemort.  He rushed back to the window; he had to warn her!

            "Azar!"

            Harry bolted up, sweat dotting his face.  He took a few deep breaths, but no, he knew it wasn't just a dream.  He flung open his bed curtains.  Ron peered warily from his.

            "Harry!  Did you…"

            "Yes."

            "The Death Eaters…and Azar?"

            "Yes, yes," Harry said quickly, snatching on his slippers.  He didn't know what he was planning to do, but he knew he had to do it quickly.  Ron slowly stood up.

            "Maybe it was just a dream," Ron said hopefully, but not really believing the words as he spoke them.

            "No, I still feel her fear," Harry said, his eyes closed tight.

            He suddenly opened them, standing up sharply.  "I have to go.  She needs me," he said in a panic.

            He rushed for the door, but only made it half way.  A sharp, searing pain exploded in his forehead and he crashed to the floor, clutching his scar and screaming.

            "Harry!  Harry!!!" Ron yelled anxiously, kneeling by his friend.

            "Cruciatus," he managed to whisper before a new onslaught of pain brought more screams.

            It was dark.  He was in the middle of a open area of grass, trees sparced about.  He could see a streetlamp and a damp road beyond it.  Suddenly, six cloaked figures swooped down, dismounting brooms.  One of them was very tall and pale.  Harry felt himself pulled forward after them, and saw they were headed toward a figure on the ground by a broken broomstick:  Azar.

            As the figures approached, Harry saw Azar's face contort in terror.  She tried to scramble away, but one leg hung useless, broken in the fall from her broom.

            "Hold her," the Dark Lord commanded.

            Two Death Eaters came forward, each taking one of Azar's arms and pinning her to the ground.  Voldemort walked towards her, and Harry saw her eyes go from terrified to defiant.

            "If I had known you were a Seer the last time we met, Azar Zundel," he said, a malicious smile donning his lipless mouth, "you would never have gotten away.  Your abilities could be very accommodating to my cause."

            Azar just glared at him.

            From his robes, Voldemort withdrew a small vial of clear liquid.  "Of course I knew you wouldn't comply willingly," he said.

            He removed the cap, moving to make her drink it.  Quickly, Azar kicked, knocking the vial away and spilling its contents.

            "Crucio!"

            Azar writhed and Harry screamed, though not from pain.  The Dark Lord held the spell a long time, and when it was finally pulled off, Azar slumped to the ground with weakness.  The two Death Eaters didn't need to hold her arms anymore.

            "So," Voldemort said, withdrawing another vial, "will you be more accommodating, or do you need more persuasion?"

            He held his wand against her chest.  Azar breathed deep, trying to get beyond the pain.  Suddenly, her eyes seemed to flick over to Harry.  Her face relaxed a bit and she gave the ghost of a smile.  Confused, Voldemort looked behind him.  It was then Azar seized her chance.  She grabbed the end of Voldemort's wand.  The man cried out, trying to wrench it away, but Azar actually pressed the tip hard against her chest.

            "Somnora!!!" she cried.

            Harry was engulfed by a great green light, and inside it felt as though he were being torn into thousands of pieces.

            "Azar!"

            Again, Harry woke up covered in sweat.

            Ron sat on the edge of his bed, as though his legs had simply given way.  His hands gripped painfully to the mattress.  His face was ash pale, his mouth parted in shock and tears streaming down his cheeks.  Harry lay on the floor, his hands clenched tightly against the stone, and stared into nothingness.  He couldn't remember ever feeling so empty.

            "She's dead," he whispered as though a solitary breeze among the icy forest.

            Ron shook his head slowly, biting his bottom lip

            "She's dead," Harry repeated louder, trying to convince himself.

            "No," Ron croaked, shaking uncontrollably.  Harry didn't say a thing, motionless.

            Suddenly, he sprang up, heading for the door.  Coming out of his daze, Ron galloped down the stairs after him, unable to object or stay behind.  When he got to the common room, however, Harry's sudden sprint came to an instant halt.  Ron slowed to a stop behind him.  There sat a figure, staring at the few glowing embers left in the fireplace.  Hearing the hurried footsteps, Hermione looked up from her seat, her eyes shining in the weak light.  Slowly, she stood up, the trio looking at each other in motionless silence.  Then Hermione, looking straight at Harry, held out her arms.

            "Oh, Harry."

            He fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands.  It was true…  It was true.

~*~*~

A/N:  I have nothing to say but thank you for the reviews, and no, this isn't the end of the book.  That's a ways off, though I promise it will be out before book 5.

**Liliana-Suger****:  *blush*  Wow, I'm flattered.  Thank you!**

**Jeanne:**  No!  I'll never tell! ^_^  Thanks!

**jona**:  **Aw, Jo, stop, you're making me flush. ^_^  Hm…  You won't be so chuffed with this chapter, me thinks.  Thanks, as always, for your thoroughly heartening reviews!!!**

**abbey****:  Here's to impossibility! *raises glass; no one joins the toast*  Ah well.  Aw, Abbey, you makin' me a bit sniffly.  Thank you. ^_^  If 'someone' is me, then yes.  *goes all innocent*  Ron was merely getting his wand.  That's all.**

**Starry:**  UnHufflepuffy…  That's a good word.  I'll have to remember it. ^_^  Thanks!

**Gary Trotter:**  Ginny just didn't want to take on a 'guide' job. *shrug*  Hey, I didn't want to deal with her, what can I say?  ^_^  Thanks!

**Kelly:**  *pouts*  Keeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllyyyyyyyyy…  We miss you, girl. *sniffle*  Well, this chapter solves some of those triangle problems…  Thanks for reviewing!

**Mystery:**  Yeah, I would have found a better ending, too, but my beta insisted it was fine.  Shows me for taking her advice… *beams at Katina*  Anyway, yeah, I noticed I was leaving Hagrid out of things.  *sigh*  Don't worry; I plan on having at least a few more scenes with him.  Heehee…squashing Skeeter the bug…  Deliciously devilish. ^_^  Thanks!

**Sonata:**  Nope, he's not always going to be blind, but that's just a secret between you and me. *laugh*  Hm…depends on your definition of "naughty." ^_^  Why ask?  ("squee squee squee"???  Hehehe, I like.)  From a writer's point of view, I LOVE it when people ask questions.  First of all, it feeds the desires of my omniscient, power-hungry mind. *bwa-ha-ha*  But also, more than once a reviewer has asked a "Is this going to happen?" question and I thought, "Dude, that's such a great idea.  It's gonna happen now." *teehee*  Thank you, as always, Nata, I love reading your reviews.

            Be Excellent to Each Other,

            -Ady


	24. Revero Detinu

Chapter 24: Revero Detinu

Dumbledore's office was dark. The few candles lit seemed to do little to penetrate the night, and the gloom this brought was augmented by the three silent figures. Hermione's hands lay in her lap, twisting and turning upon each other. She kept glancing up at Harry, then shooting Ron a look, as though trying to say something or willing one of them to do so. Harry hunched low, his elbows upon his knees, his head bowed, his eyes closed, looking like some ancient Gothic statue. Ron's chin rested in his hand and his eyes squinted with concentration into the dark.

This was so strange to him… He'd known death before, knew the pain better than any of them, but now there was a feeling that was beyond his knowledge. It was as though he was missing a part of himself, literally. As though a great chunk of his very being had been ripped away from him. 

Ron glanced over at Hermione. She was still in her bed clothes, as was he. Harry, however, was fully dressed. It had seemed a long time when Ron and Hermione had stood outside the dormitory door, trying to coax Harry out. When he finally had come, wearing even his cloak, he hadn't said a word but marched straight to Dumbledore's office. Ron had taken a quick peek inside the dormitory before following Harry; there was no sign of Draco.

When Ron and Hermione had told Dumbledore everything, Ron had been sure Harry would demand to go with a search party. Harry didn't say a word. Not a single word.

The door to the office slowly swung open. Ron and Hermione looked up expectantly. Harry didn't move. Professor Dumbledore, Remus, and Sirius entered, looking like they'd just returned from a funeral. The three men walked over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Remus speaking softly.

"We found the house; there was no Dark Mark over it. However, there is no question that Voldemort was there. No one was left alive."

"We didn't find Azar's body, however," Sirius said quickly. "She could still be alive. The Ministry is searching for her and—"

"No," Harry suddenly spoke up, shaking his head. "She wasn't at the house."

Four in the room jumped, staring uncertainly at him. Dumbledore just nodded slowly, as though his fears had just been confirmed.

"She flew out, on a broom. They chased her. She…she fell from the broom," Harry said numbly, "because of the Cruciatus curse. She fell…"

"How do you know this?" Sirius asked, almost as though to insist Harry was imagining things.

The boy still didn't look up. "I saw it. Through Voldemort; my scar." He mumbled through all he'd seen, all the way to "Somnora!" and waking back on the dormitory floor.

Remus knelt down in front of Harry, putting a hand on his arm. "Harry, I know this is hard," he said quietly, "but we have to find her. Try to describe the area you saw."

Harry still didn't look at him. "It was probably a park. Not too far from the house; she didn't fly for long. It was an open area of grass with a few trees around, and I could see a streetlamp and a road beyond. That's all I can remember; that's all I saw."

Remus patted his arm and then stood up.

Sirius rubbed his godson's shoulder. "We'll find her, Harry."

"She…there's still a chance that she's alive," Ron said slowly.

Hermione nodded firmly. "There's still hope."

There was a long motionless pause and then Harry spoke up. "You've felt it, too. The absolute emptiness. It's the Revero Detinu."

Sirius and Remus glanced quickly at each other, not needing to say a word. Memories of a Halloween night sixteen years ago flooded their minds.

"She was a link in the chain," Harry said, staring at the floor. "Without her, we're no longer connected. We only know our own feelings, not each others'. We're all alone. Completely alone. … There is no hope."

Any weak denials that might have surfaced in the room weren't spoken aloud. After all, Ron and Hermione knew that the bonds they had held for nearly a year were no longer there. Sirius and Remus knew the same emptiness from long ago. And Dumbledore knew Tom Riddle and Azar Zundel, and that they were capable of all Harry had said.

The office door suddenly opened and Professor McGonagall entered, soon followed by Professor Snape. For the first time since he had come to the office, Harry looked up. The instant his eyes found Snape, they flashed and a yell escaped his lips. His chair flew back as he flung himself out of it, running at his professor. Sirius, in shock, grabbed for him too late. It was Professor McGonagall who stopped Harry's dash, though it took effort.

"Mr. Potter!"

"You killed her!" Harry screamed, still trying to get at Snape.

Sirius hurried forward, holding Harry firmly. Harry hardly noticed, all his effort focused at getting to Snape.

"She's dead because of you!" Harry continued to rant at the top of his lungs. "You killed her! You killed her! He killed her, Sirius!"

Sirius dragged Harry back, forcing him in his chair and trying to calm him.

"Harry, what are you talking about? What do you mean?"

No longer struggling, Harry's eyes still shot daggers at Snape and his teeth were clenched. "He taught us the Poison of Delayed Sleep! He taught it to his students, and she used it! He killed her! She'd be alive if it weren't for him! She wouldn't…she wouldn't have…"

Harry broke down, unable to finish. He sobbed into Sirius' shoulder. Ron and Hermione had watched all this with wide eyes and now stared at Snape like he was a traitor. Dumbledore noticed this.

"Harry," he said quietly, causing the boy to sit up and reduce his tears to shaky deep breaths, "Ron, Hermione." The two stopped staring at Snape. "I was the one who asked Professor Snape to teach you that potion."

"But, Professor, why?" Hermione said, her voice unusually high.

"A large batch was needed, that's all I can tell you," Dumbledore said, his voice grave. "But it was never meant to be used by the students. That's why you were never taught the spell. I didn't believe anyone would try to learn it on their own. I was wrong."

Harry's eyes slowly returned to the floor. Then he stood up sharply. "I'm going for a walk," he said.

"We'll come with you," Hermione said quickly.

"No. I'm going alone." He glanced up at his friends. "Don't worry; I won't do anything." His eyes went back to the floor as he headed for the door. "Sirius, find her. Please."

He left the room, walking down the staircase and then the halls slowly. He'd seen the look on Sirius' face, and those on Remus' and McGonagall's and Snape's. They knew why the Potion had been made but he didn't and wasn't going to. All the years, all the changes, and still he was left in the dark. He was always left in the dark.

When he finally looked up, he found his feet had taken him to the North Tower. He wasn't surprised really. Without hesitation, he climbed out the window and onto the roof. The house elves must have cleared it of snow to prevent a collapse; it was dry but still cold. As Harry stood up straight, he saw a hunched figure topped with pale blond hair.

"Draco? What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.

Draco shrugged, turning his head towards Harry slightly. "I wanted to talk. Azar and I always came up here to talk."

Harry just stood there for a while, not even noticing the frozen wind. Then he sat on the roof, his back to Draco. The air was cold, stinging his exposed face and causing his nose to run. He sniffed and noticed Draco doing so, too, more than once. His eyes turned upward. The night was cloudless and the stars spread out far and bright. The moon was directly above him, the smallest sliver of silver. The eastern horizon was graying, but only slightly. Dawn was still a long way off.

Draco took in a rattled breath, bringing Harry out of his reverie. "She's not coming back, is she?" he asked quietly, choking on the words.

Harry couldn't answer, staring off into the utter depths of the night. He felt his sight began to swim and tried to blink it away, but only succeeded in freeing the tears to tread an icy path down his face. Sniffing, he pulled his cloak in tighter around him. A sudden weight was placed on his thigh and he reached instinctively into his robe pocket. His hand closed around the grooved metal, warmed from sitting in his pocket, and he gazed on the bronze eagle he'd made. For her. He closed his hand tightly around it, but the cold night soon stripped the figure of all the warmth it had held.

"No," he said hollowly. "She's not."

Again he wrapped the cloak tightly around him, burying his face in it so Draco couldn't see his tears or the eagle he gripped in his hand.

****

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley cut their holiday short. They arrived at Hogwarts midday, Ron and Hermione meeting them in the Entrance Hall. Ron and Mr. Weasley headed for the kitchens to get some lunch, while Hermione and Mrs. Weasley went to the Gryffindor tower. Harry and Draco had been sitting near the fire but Harry stood when the women entered. Mrs. Weasley instantly went and embraced him, and Harry hugged back. He didn't cry or bury his face in her shoulder, just thanking her for coming.

Draco sat where he was, staring into the fire with a purposeful nothingness. Ron and Mr. Weasley soon returned, having run into Sirius and Remus and brought them along. Those that ate did so in silence and no one in the room tried to start a conversation. Mrs. Weasley insisted on cleaning up. Sirius' hands were all nerves, tapping constantly on his leg and clasping and unclasping at intervals. He didn't eat.

As lunch was put away, small murmurs of conversations started up and grew. Sirius made his way over to Harry, sitting close. His hands seemed even more jumpy.

"Harry," Sirius said quietly, "the funeral's tomorrow."

"I know," Harry said, his voice rasping slightly. "I'm not going."

"You don't mean that. … The worst thing, I think, about being sent to Azkaban right away was that I wasn't there; I never had a chance to say good-bye to your parents. Not for many years."

Harry shook his head. "We had a chance to say good-bye; that's what I want to remember. She knew she wasn't coming back. We already said good-bye."

"It's different, Harry. You know that."

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley spoke gently, having overheard, "we'll be there. All of us. You don't have to go through this alone."

Again, Harry shook his head. "It's not that. I know she's dead; I accept that. But…"

"She doesn't belong in a hole in the ground."

Draco caught them a bit by surprise; he'd seemed completely introverted the whole day. He glanced up at them when he said those words, but then looked back at the spot he'd been staring at for the past hour.

"Exactly," Harry said quietly. "I…I don't want to go look at a casket for my last memory of her."

"She's above that," Draco added.

Harry nodded.

Sirius and Mrs. Weasley could find no argument against their reasoning. 

****

Mrs. Weasley walked along Hogwarts' corridors in a plain, black Muggle dress. She had just returned from Azar's funeral. There had seemed to be very few people there; so much of her family had died with her. A gas leak, the Muggles had been told. The whole family died in their sleep. Mrs. Weasley, however, had come across the Needlebits, people she'd gone to school with and whom had apparently been the Zundels' neighbors. She talked with them in hushed whispers to find out what the world beyond the newspapers thought. The death of one of the Four, particularly a Seer, was not to be kept hidden.

The conversation replayed in Mrs. Weasley's head as she absently fingered a tapestry. "They say that she may have been the one that held the wand against herself, but I just can't believe it." "No, not Azar. Yet I can't help but wonder why You-Know-Who would want her dead; he may be many things, but foolish is not one of them." Mrs. Weasley nodded silently throughout the whole conversation; after all, she knew what had happened. Azar had used the Poison of Delayed Sleep on herself. Why, she still wasn't sure.

A movement in the seemingly empty hall caught her attention. It was Draco, walking in front of her and dressed in his full Hogwarts garb. "Draco, hello; how are you?"

Draco turned his head slightly towards her but didn't slow his step. Mrs. Weasley took a few long strides to walk next to him. "Fine, thank you," he said brusquely, his attention turning forward again.

"I'm here, Draco," she said quietly. "If you ever want to talk, I'm here to listen."

She reached out and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Draco knocked the hand away, quickly stepping away from her and staring at her angrily. Mrs. Weasley could only gape.

"I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't need anyone. So leave me alone. Just go away."

He spun back around, storming down the hall. Mrs. Weasley stood frozen.

****

Hermione marched determinedly down the stairs from her dormitory. She still wore her Muggle clothes from the funeral and kept sniffing. It felt as though her heart was tearing in two. But she had thought this over carefully, for a much longer time than since Azar's death. That was just the final push.

"Hermione?"

The girl jumped, looking up to find the very person she was about to go searching for. "Ron, hello."

"Are you okay?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Hermione shrugged. Oh, he was not making this any easier. She glanced around the common room; it was still Christmas Holiday, so she only had Harry and Draco to worry about. They didn't seem to be there.

"I need to talk with you," she said, knowing there was no turning back.

"Sure. What about?"

"Well…" She'd lied. There was turning back. But she wouldn't let herself. "About time, really."

Ron looked at her, puzzled.

"We don't have much of it, really," Hermione went on slowly. "We're leaving Hogwarts this year, to go out into the world, yet I feel like I've experienced so little. I've known so few things, so few people."

"Hermione," Ron said quietly, his brow furrowed, "what do you mean?"

She took a deep breath, and, though Ron couldn't see it, she was biting her tongue to fight back the tears. "Now is not the time for…us. We're seventeen, Ron. Everything's too serious…we take it all too seriously. We still have our whole lives before us and…I don't want my choices limited."

Ron just stared at her blankly, unable to understand. Hermione gave a deep sigh.

"Ron, I want to break up."

The freckles on Ron's face stood out starkly as the color drained from it. He opened his mouth slightly. "How can you leave me now?"

Hermione was silent awhile, unsure of what to do.

"Here," she said quietly, unclasping the necklace she wore. "I'm giving this back."

Ron stared blankly at the glass teardrop hanging from its silver chain. His eyes went back to Hermione's face and he pushed back the hand she held forward. "No. I gave it to you. I love you, Hermione. It's yours, always."

With a slight sigh, Hermione took Ron's right hand with her left, giving it a comforting squeeze. Then she eased open his fingers, his palm up, and placed the necklace in his hand, closing it over the teardrop.

"Maybe later," she said quietly, "but not now."

Numbly, Ron stared at her, then slowly turned to his hand. The numbness seeped from him, overwhelmed by a growing burning. His hand clenched tighter against the glass and he had trouble breathing.

"What have I done," he said through gritted teeth. "What have I ever done to deserve this."

"Ron," Hermione pleaded, "it's not about you. I just can't…tie myself down, not now. I haven't even experienced life, neither have you. I don't want to be just the acquaintance, the friend, the wife. I need a chance to be nothing but myself."

His eyes looked up at her with accusation. "This is because of Draco, isn't it?"

"Ron, no, I can't…" Clouds passed over Hermione's eyes, exasperation etched on her forehead. "You just don't listen, do you? This has nothing to do with Draco, or Harry, or anyone. Except maybe Azar. I… Who knows how much time I have, Ron? I just don't want to be trapped in a relationship—"

"Oh, so you're trapped, are you?" Ron's nostrils flared. "Show me the cage, Hermione, because I don't see any bars around us."

"No, please, Ron, it's not like that. I just don't want to feel obligated—"

"Now you feel obligated to love me, is that right?" Ron said loudly.

"Well yes, if you must know!" Hermione yelled, her eyes flashing. "There is never a right time, Ron. You said it yourself: 'How can you leave me now?' That's how it always feels, as though if I'm not constantly helping your self-esteem then I am the scum of the world. I want you to be happy, Ron, but I want to be happy, too."

Ron gaped at her for a long time, feeling as though she might as well have said, "Avada Kedavra." Then his jaw set firmly in its place, his fists clenching. "Sorry it's so much of a chore for you to respect and support me!" he yelled, his face going red. "If I'd known, then I could have just never spoken to you about anything! You would have preferred that?!"

"Why do you have to make everything I do that you don't like into some vindictive act?!" Hermione cried angrily. "I don't want to hurt you, Ron!"

"Too late!"

The words rang in the air as Ron left her, stomping off to the staircase. Suddenly, he spun back around, though not to stop.

"This is still yours; always!" he yelled, hurling the necklace at Hermione.

Hermione numbly tried to catch it but missed. It fell to the floor, shattering into five pieces. For a moment, both stared at Hermione's feet.

"Trust you to let something so important drop," Ron growled, heading back up the stairs.

"You were the one who threw it!" Hermione called after him. She glanced at the mess at her feet with disgust, then stormed up her own set of stairs.

Harry sank even lower in his chair until the slamming of his friends' respective doors echoed through the common room. Then slowly he stood, walking over to where the Dream Weaver had broken. He hadn't needed to see their faces to know this fight was serious. Gingerly, he knelt and gathered up the broken pieces, chain too, in his hand. Should he throw them away? But no, it had cost Ron so much, he couldn't do that. Yet what good were broken pieces of glass? … Not now. Maybe later.

****

Whether or not they realized it, the students of Hogwarts returned to a school vastly changed from the one they had left. Ravenclaws were stunned; one of their own was gone. Whispers traveled around about how and where, though none were really sure. Gryffindor was tense; there was something about their tower that no longer felt so welcoming. No one could put a finger on it.

Ron and Hermione puppy-dogged Harry around, though never at the same time. "You feeling all right?" became more than hackneyed. When his friends weren't following him, however, eyes were. Everyone whispered about how the people around him seemed to die, he was sure. If Azar had never become friends with him, she would still be alive.

Despite the gloomy atmosphere, classes were unchanged. They went on much as they always had. The students in them were another matter. Hermione's hand seemed to have decided to regain its habit of shooting into the air at every possible interval, even more so than in her first year. Ron had been a bit lost for a while, but was quickly snatched up by Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil who seemed determined to help him overcome his many losses. Draco had a dark look or dismally blank stare for every person and occasion. Despite the ungluing of his group of friends, however, Harry felt as though he hardly cared. It didn't really matter.

"Potter!"

Harry jumped, his eyes finding Snape, who stood in front of their Potions class expectantly.

"Well?" Snape said, his voice awash with sand and oil.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry said, though his voice held no apology. "I wasn't paying attention."

"I asked what the key ingredient in the Defensive Draft is." Snape knew Harry had no idea and wanted to relish it.

He had little chance, though. A sudden swish interrupted the silence as Hermione's hand shot up right next to Harry. Then, without waiting for Snape's consent, she answered his question.

"New Moon Lilies."

Snape stared at her with contemptuous surprise but seemed to think better of deducting points. "Correct… Can anyone tell me what abilities this plant can produce if prepared properly?"

Again Hermione's hand was up, though she waited for Snape's cold nod before speaking. "New Moon Lilies, when used in a Defensive Draft, have the distinct ability to make the drinker virtually undetectable in areas of low light. Finding them is a hard task, however, for they take these properties on themselves. New Moon Lilies are also unique in that they only grow in the winter, and then only for the night of the first new moon of the year. At any other time, they are only roots, useless for potion-making and resembling radishes."

Snape gave something of a sneer. "Well, well, well. It seems Miss Granger is back to being the undisputed-best-of-class with a fury. No more competition then?"

It felt as though someone had grabbed hold of Harry's heart and wrenched it from his chest. He felt a now familiar sting come to his eyes and his vision began to swim. Unable to endure it, he stood up sharply and raced out of the room, knocking into Snape in his blind retreat.

Harry didn't care what he was doing or where he was going. He just had to get away; away from his concerned friends, away from his staring classmates, away from Snape.

Turning a corner sharply, he ran head-on into something, falling to the ground. Harry hastily dried his tears in an attempt to see what had gotten in his way. Gradually, the fallen figure of a very dazed Professor Connerly came into view.

"Oh, Professor, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, standing and then helping her up as well. "I wasn't watching where I was going and—"

"Harry," she interrupted, her voice worried, "are you all right? Have you been crying?"

"It's just…I…"

She reached out and touched his shoulder so comfortingly that he couldn't help it. He burst into tears, heaving uncontrollable sobs. Gently, she put her arm around his shoulder.

"I don't have a class right now," she said quietly. "Let's go to my office and talk."

Harry nodded. Though still unable to stop the tears, he managed to quell his sobs by the time they came to her classroom. She led him to her office and sat him down. Taking a seat next to him, she waited for him to speak.

"She…she's gone…" he said softly, tears still running down his cheeks. "And he acts as though she's just moved!"

Connerly looked at him, concerned. "Who?"

"Snape," he answered bitterly, relating what had happened in class.

The expression on Connerly's face changed dramatically. It looked as though her sympathy and anger were fighting for control.

"Why does he hate me so much? So much that he could say that?" Harry asked, his voice helpless.

"He doesn't hate you, Harry," she said, her voice still torn between anger and sympathy. "He just hates the world and wants everyone to feel the way he does."

"He deserves his misery."

Sympathy finally won over in Connerly's mind.

"No one deserves that kind of misery, Harry. Not people like Snape. Have you ever talked to him, Harry?"

"Talked to him? How could I talk to him? Can you even talk to a man like that?!"

Connerly smiled slightly. "You'd be surprised. Just try, Harry. You never know what gems you might find in slate."

Harry blinked at her, stunned. "That's what Dumbledore said to me last year… About Draco."

"It applies in many situations," she smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'll excuse you from Potions, okay? Why don't you go to your dormitory and get some rest?"

Harry nodded, leaving the room after a comforting hug from Professor Connerly. He didn't head for his dormitory, however; he went to the Prep classroom. There was something else weighing on his chest. Sirius only had one class a day, so Harry knew he wasn't teaching. Sirius sat at his desk, grading what Harry recognized to be their essays on their future careers. After thinking long and hard about it, Harry had decided to copout and just write about being a professional Quidditch player. Of course, that was before Christmas. He didn't know what he might write now.

Sirius looked up from his work, smiling warmly. "Hello, Harry. How are you doing?"

"Alright. You?" Harry replied without thinking. He didn't tell Sirius about Snape; he would sooner play football with a manticore.

"I'm doing okay," Sirius nodded, waiting for Harry to say what he came in for.

It wasn't that easy. Harry's eyes traveled over Sirius' desk. He picked up a paperweight pyramid, examining it. On one side a dog was etched, on another a stag, and on a third a wolf. The fourth had something on it once, but that had been viciously scratched until the animal was indiscernible.

"I got that a long time ago," Sirius said, adding with a wry smile, "It's been altered since."

"She asked me to go home with her for Christmas," Harry said, still examining the pyramid. "I refused; I refused every time she wanted me to meet her family."

Sirius stood up, walking over to Harry. "Harry, understand tha—"

"I should have gone!" Harry said, slamming the pyramid back on the desk.

"You couldn't have done anything, Harry," Sirius said forcefully. "If you had gone, then you'd be dead, too."

"I wish I were!" Harry cried, his teeth clenched in a vain attempt to hold back his anger. "It would have been better if I'd just gone and been killed."

"Don't say that, Harry," Sirius murmured, taking his shoulders. "You're needed alive. We need you here, Harry."

"You need death?" he answered quietly, his eyes wide and pained. "You need the suffering, the terror? Voldemort is after me, and wherever I go, the people around me die. And it won't be until one of us is killed that it stops."

Harry turned away, walking to the window and placing a hand against the glass. Sirius watched him, at a lost for what he should do. Outside, the sun was bright, reflecting off the snow and painting the world a blinding white. There stood Harry, the room dark but for the shining light of the window, and he a dark silhouette among the glow. And Sirius realized—a small jolt rushing through his system—that he'd paid more attention to the bright light than the small shadow that lay within.

Suddenly, Harry turned, breaking Sirius' train of thought. In his eyes were desolation and fear, coupled with the smallest grain of hope.

"She doesn't have to die," he whispered.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Sirius asked slowly, unsure of where this was going.

"Don't you see?" Harry cried, his voice rising as he rushed towards Sirius, his hands out almost pleadingly. "There are ways around it! We can save her!"

Sirius stayed silent, uncertain and concerned.

"A time-turner," Harry said desperately. "We can get one and go back."

Sirius closed his eyes, bowing his head slightly. So that was it. He should have seen it. Slowly, he shook his head. "No, Harry."

"Why not?! If they let Hermione have one for her stupid classes, why won't they let me save Azar!" Harry yelled angrily, tears coming down his cheeks. "They have to… I have to go back… I have to."

Sirius held the boy tight, letting him cry. "You can't, Harry," he said quietly. "Don't you think we would have gone back and saved your parents if it was that easy? We can't. And neither can you. You can't change the past, Harry."

"Like hell I can't," Harry said, pushing away. "If I could go back and save you, then—"

"Harry, listen to me," Sirius said sternly. "Time is a complicated thing. When you and Hermione used the time-turner to save me, you didn't change the past. No, don't argue, listen. All that had happened that day happened just the same. If you and Hermione hadn't gone back before Fudge and Snape entered my room, then you wouldn't have been able to do anything, because you would have been trying to change the past."

"Of course I would have. Why would Fudge and Snape seeing you make any—"

"It would. I would have met the Dementor, no matter what you did. You knew that was going to happen, not that it had happened. If Azar… if that hadn't happened, then we wouldn't be talking now, and so you wouldn't think to use the time-turner, and so you wouldn't save her. I know it doesn't make the most sense, Harry, but that's the way it works. You can change the future, but not the past. At least not the past as you know it."

"But I saved us," Harry said in a fading whisper. "Hermione, you, me, I went back and saved us from the Dementors. Why can't I…?"

"You didn't know that your going back would mean the difference, Harry," Sirius answered quietly. "But you know now."

Harry stared out the window, breathing deep, trying to control his tears. Yet it proved fruitless. He thought he'd succeeded, that the feelings had been caged deep down, but then he saw his face in the window's reflection and the snow outside; that was all it took. The cage broke, and the tears came. He hardly even realized when Sirius took him in his arms, trying to comfort him, but Harry was simply thankful to have someone to hold onto. He felt like such a child for all the tears he shed, but it didn't matter. He didn't care.

"It's okay, Harry, go ahead and cry," Sirius comforted.

"It just hurts so much," Harry sobbed.

Sirius looked up, but didn't see the ceiling. To him, it was the night sky, dotted with stars, and he was looking at the darkest space. And as he stared, clouds seemed to come to his eyes, in them such anger, such hate, such determination that if his gaze had been upon a being, that creature would have fallen to its knees and prayed it might see another day. And he remembered.

****

Harry decided to spend lunch in his dormitory, following Professor Connerly's advice. He lay on his bed, absent-mindedly stroking the small bronze eagle he'd made as it walked about him. That's why he hadn't given it to her before she left on Holiday; he'd been able to make it move—like his golden lion—but he knew he had to do Azar one better. He had wanted to make it fly.

Ron opened the dormitory door like a shamed little boy coming to tell his mother he was sorry he said he hated her. Harry quickly twisted the bronze eagle's tail feather to make it freeze, hiding it in his hand. Ron stood there a while, shuffling his feet.

"We're collecting New Moon Lilies tonight," he finally said, as though continuing a nonexistent conversation. "There's a patch by the Forbidden Forest, and it's a new moon tonight. That…that's why we talked about them in class. We'll be making the Defensive Draft next time."

Harry sat up slightly, giving a small smile. "Thanks, Ron."

Again Ron shuffled about nervously, his hands burrowing deep into his pockets. "You alright, Harry?"

The predictability of the question almost caused Harry to laugh out loud. "I'm fine, Ron. Just had a bit of a moment in Potions. What happened when I left?"

"Snape just went on with the lesson, the slimy git," Ron muttered irritably as he sat at the foot of Harry's bed. "He wouldn't even let me follow you! I was ready to slam that pointed nose of his right into his smirky face. He didn't take any points away, though. … He shouldn't have said that."

Harry sat up fully, folding his legs beneath him. "I think he knows that now."

"You know, I don't know why he's a teacher. He hates everything that breathes," Ron said wryly. "And I still think he could be a Death Eater. All those that say they're reformed are tripe. They had to learn the Unforgivable Curses; they used them! They used the only way there is to kill someone instantly. I just… They're called the Unforgivable Curses for a reason, after all! I just wish I knew why Dumbledore thinks Snape is any better than the ones running around in masks."

"I wish I knew, too," Harry said quietly, setting his chin on his knees. Something Ron said netted in his mind, staring at him like some terrible fish. He knew what he had to do.

****

"Alrigh', everyone got yer dragon-hide gloves?" Hagrid called above the class, wearing his own gigantic pair.

Heads bobbed up and down. Their murtlaps were fully grown now and living in a makeshift pen by the lake. Today, however, they each had the murtlap they'd raised in their hands, so if they weren't wearing their gloves, they were surely regretting it. After all, the spines they were about to harvest were extremely sharp.

"Good. How 'bout yer pliers? Anyone need some? Good," Hagrid said with a nod. "Now, yeh need ter be careful removin' the spikes. Yer gloves will protect yeh from their spines, but not from their teeth. Ter avoid bein' bitten, yeh want ter grasp the loose skin at the back of their necks, like this. Everyone's got their gloves, righ'?"

Another nod went through the group. The moment Hagrid's giant hand took hold of the murtlap's skin, it let out an ear-piercing screech, then another and another. The cries reminded Harry somewhat of the mermaid singing he'd heard in his fourth year; above water, of course. Everyone tried to find a way of covering both their ears without letting go of their murtlaps.

"Now," Hagrid called over the shrill screams, "see how it's curlin' in ter a ball how it does when it's frightened? This is what yeh want 'cause it makes the spikes easy ter get at and they come out easy, too. So when yer murtlap does this, take yer pliers and gently pull on one o' the spikes, easin' it out."

The murtlap, thankfully, had stopped its constant shrieking in favor of the occasional yell, and many were surprised that it didn't make a sound as Hagrid took out one of the spikes on its back. He placed it in a long vial beside him.

"Now, if yeh pull back with the way the spike is growin', yer murtlap won' feel a thin'. Yeh all have yer gloves, righ'? Good. Each of yeh need to pull out five spines and put them in ter the vials yeh have beside yeh. Then put yer murtlap back in the pen and bring the vials ter me. Professor Snape will be teachin' yeh how ter prepare the spines later."

The rest of the class was spent taking out the sea anemone-like spikes—although Hagrid had made the action look easy and painless, many didn't find it so. Neville Longbottom was so alarmed when his murtlap shrieked as he took out a spine that he dropped the animal, spending the next five minutes running as the angry murtlap chased him through the snow. When finally everybody had taken five spines from their murtlaps and returned them to the waterside paddock, Hagrid let the class leave early. Harry glanced back just in time to see the many vials Hagrid had been collecting slip from his hands and fall to the ground. He hurried over to help him pick them out of the snow. Hermione moved to follow, but stopped when Ron got there first. She waited a while, then went off to lunch with Draco.

"Here, Hagrid, we'll help you," Harry said, stooping to scoop up the spines.

"Thanks, yew two," Hagrid said, a little gruff. "I don' know why I dropped them. Bit edgy, I guess."

"None of them broke," Ron offered as comfort. "Not even the vials."

"Well that's a good thin'. Don' think Professor Snape would have been too pleased with me breakin' his bottles," Hagrid said with a smile as they walked to his hut, their hands clutching tight to the vials.

Harry couldn't help but notice Hagrid's shaky hands, and the fact that although he felt near frozen even with his cloak, Hagrid was sweating.

"Are you okay, Hagrid?" he asked.

"Me? Ah, yeah," came the offhand answer. "Migh' be comin' down with a bit of the flu, but Madam Pomfrey'll fix that in a jiff."

They reached the hut, setting the vials in a corner, and then Hagrid ushered them off. As he headed back to the castle, Harry couldn't help but feel a bit suspicious.

"Did you notice Hagrid acting a bit stranger than usual?" he asked Ron.

"Yeah. He even kept repeating himself in class. I got a bit sick of being asked if I had my gloves."

"Do you think it's the flu like he said?"

Ron shook his head. "Something's definitely off, there's no doubt."

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked.

"He didn't offer us any food to refuse."

****

Potions class that afternoon was a bit strange. Snape did indeed have the murtlap needles, and their assignment was to pickle them. More than a few kids were sure they'd heard the potions professor wrong, and many were at a total loss for what to do. What was even stranger was that Snape was constantly pacing the classroom, watching and reprimanding them as though they were playing with plutonium. No potion-making, no boiling cauldrons. Just pickling murtlap spines.

A small white piece of paper suddenly plopped in front of Harry. He nonchalantly picked it up, making sure Snape was on the other side of the room before he dared to read it.

'Looks like the ditzy duo are at it again.'

He glanced over at Ron, who smiled and gave him a wink, and then past him at Lavender and Parvati. They were arguing over whether the spines should be pickled together or one at a time. Harry quickly got out his quill, scrawling under Ron's writing:

'Odd classes lately. First the New Moon Lily picking, and now pickling murtlap spines. And I used to think this class was called Potions for a reason. Makes you wonder if Snape's snapped.'

He slid the note over to Ron, pretending to peer closely at a spine. The piece of paper was soon back.

'Since when was there a need to wonder?'

Harry held back a laugh, quickly pocketing the note as Snape came up to them. The bell soon rang and everyone left as fast as they could, wanting to get away from the more-tyrannous-than-usual Snape and laughing about the absurd class.

"Good thing he didn't see that note," Ron laughed as he walked down the hall with Harry. "Would have been the death of both of us."

"I think he would have killed you twice."

"Naw, only one and a half times."

"Harry!"

Hermione was hurrying towards them. Almost magically, the moment Hermione came up, Ron was down the hall with Parvati and Lavender. Hermione didn't seem to notice this.

"Doesn't it seem a bit odd that we were pickling murtlap spines in Potions?" she asked slowly, as though she suspected far more than she revealed.

Harry nodded. "That's exactly what Ron and me were talking about in class. Well, passing notes about."

Hermione's eyes suddenly went wide as she halted in the middle of the hall, staring at Harry in horror. Her hand went to her mouth and Harry was sure he saw tears in her eyes. Before he could say anything, she was running down the hall. He felt a pang of guilt; he'd been so sure Hermione was fine talking about Ron, but apparently not.

****

Harry watched the metal figurines with dull eyes. His gold lion paced the length of his bedside table, looking both lazy and busy at the same time. The bronze eagle flew around the room, landing periodically on his lamp to rest. It had taken a lot of studying and work, but Harry had done it; he'd made the eagle fly. It finally landed and covered its head with one wing, falling asleep. Harry reached up and turned one of its tail feathers, freezing it. His lion, too, seemed to have tired from its pacing and stretched its body along the wood to rest. Harry twisted its tail and it stopped even its slight twitching.

The door creaked open almost against its will. Harry looked up to see Hermione walk in. Her eyes looked very red. Her hands clutched a paper, and from the looks of it, she'd been turning and twisting it for a while. Harry was certain it must have something to do with Ron.

"Harry?" Hermione said softly, looking uncomfortable.

He didn't answer, just looking at her.

"I…I have something for you," she went on, as nervous as ever. "From Azar. She gave it to me a few months ago. She told me to give it to you…should anything happen to her."

Harry's eyes went wide, and he snatched the letter from her hands.

"I'm sorry I didn't give it to you sooner, but it was driven out of my mind… I swear I thought she was joking," Hermione babbled, near tears. "It was just like her to say something like that. But when all this happened…"

Harry ignored her, tearing the letter open and reading it.

Hello Harry legs,

Well, I guess if you're reading this, I interpreted my dream correctly. Remember the forest nightmare? It became clearer and clearer to me the more I thought. I saw faces among the green light, and I knew them. They were my family. But then a wand pointed at me, and instead of the killing curse, I was stupe stunned. It didn't take me long to figure out why: I am a Seer. I knew—if my dream was right—Voldemort would try to make me prophesy for him. I also knew that he would win over in the end. And so I learned the spell for the Poison of Delayed Sleep, easier than the killing curse.

Don't think I killed m did it because I didn't want to live. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, in the weeks after I took the potion, I was constantly afraid that someone might say that spell, just as a joke, and that would be the end of me. But I had no other choice. I knew that if it came down to those options, I would rather die than do anything to help Voldemort. I know I must seem like a coward, that I should have been able to stand the pain. That's just it. I didn't I wasn't afraid of what might happen to me. I was afraid of what I might do. I was afraid of the people I might hurt, the innocent, those I love. I hope you can understand that, Harry, and you can make others understand.

On a more personal note, I know somehow you've decided that it was all your fault. Harry James Potter, get that notion out of your head this instant! I swear, if I must I'll find a way to knock some sense into your head, even if that means I have to get you struck by lightning. And don't think I won't! You know me better than that.

I know everything must be kind of overwhelming right now. I know I've probably shocked a good many people and I know not everyone will understand. But now you know, Harry legs. You must also know this: every beginning has an ending; every life shall fade away; every story has a hero; every darkness dies with day. You are the hero of this story, Harry, and daylight isn't far away. I promise.

Just be careful. I've Seen other things and I'm afraid I don't want you being foolish. Don't let the hero fade away, too. You haven't time for that. You've got a story to tell.

All my love always,

Azar

Harry closed his eyes after reading the note, rereading it in his head so he could hear Azar saying it. He opened them again, looking at Hermione through green pools.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said quietly.

Hermione smiled, but was unable to keep a sob from escaping her throat. Harry stood up, taking her in his arms. She held him too, burying her face in his shoulder. The two friends stood, embraced and crying, for a long time.

****

It was Saturday. No classes. No Quidditch. Ron and Hermione were avoiding each other, and Draco was avoiding everyone. So Harry had nothing better to do than wander the halls of Hogwarts and think. It had been a good many days since he'd realized what he had to do. He still hadn't done anything.

The problem was, he didn't know where to start really. He could try to do it alone, but that seemed risky. No, he had to find someone to help him, someone to teach him.

"Whoa, hello, Harry. Can-you-hear-me?"

Harry started, looking up to find Sirius waving a hand in front of his face with a smile. "Sorry, Sirius," Harry said with a smile. "I was getting lost in my head."

"And here I thought you were sleep-walking," Sirius sighed, as though disappointed. "How's school going, Harry? Failing anything?"

"No, not yet."

"Ack, well try harder at it, will you?"

Harry just shook his head with a laugh. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of red, looking over to see it was Professor Connerly. Sirius clearly saw her, too. So Harry couldn't help but feel surprised when, as Connerly came down the hall, Sirius deliberately turned his back on her. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor paused behind Sirius, looking at him waveringly, but she only nodded at Harry and went on. Sirius watched her go as her footsteps faded.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

Sirius shrugged. "We had a bit of a row. I'm trying to lay low for a while."

Harry smiled slightly. "What about?"

"It was stupid, really," Sirius murmured, thinking it over. "She just wants to take our relationship up a notch, and I…well, I'm comfortable with my notch right now."

Harry couldn't help but feel a bit surprised. "You're the one not wanting to go to the next level? I would have more expected it the other way around, and considering this is Professor Connerly we're talking about, that's saying a lot."

Sirius looked very uncomfortable. "What's the rush, eh? I'd like to stay here for a bit longer. And—hey, I'm the parental figure; you should be asking me for advice on love, not offering it."

Harry just shrugged, though he still felt there was something more behind it.

Sirius seemed to realize Harry wasn't buying his explanation; he quickly said, "I've gotta go; papers to grade" and hurried down the halls.

The meeting put an idea in Harry's head. He knew Sirius wouldn't be able to help him, but what about Connerly? No, that was no good. She would never agree to teach him, and just because she was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher didn't mean she knew them. He had to ask someone who would know, without a doubt—someone who would see the necessity of his learning.

A sudden determination took over; this was it, no turning back. Harry marched swiftly down the hall, down into the dungeons. He felt almost furious, more so with every step. The door to Snape's office slammed as Harry entered. The potions professor looked up with mild surprise, watching his student come purposefully up to his desk.

"I want you to teach me the Unforgivable Curses," Harry said, his fists clenched.

Snape turned back to what he was writing. "That is nothing to joke about, Potter."

Harry slammed his hand in the middle of Snape's parchment, splattering the wet ink. Snape jumped, truly shocked. Harry just glared down at him. "I am not joking."

Snape stared at him warily. "You've seen the effects of those spells, Potter. Why should you wish to perform them?"

"Because I have seen their effects!" Harry yelled. "I can't stop them, so I must fight them; fire with fire."

Snape glanced him up and down, his eyes holding a sardonic pity. "You place too much on your shoulders, Potter."

"Only because the world puts too much in my hands!" Harry said angrily. "I only ask to have every means of defending myself!"

Snape sneered. "You've lived this long without knowing the spells."

"Yes, I have, but so many haven't. I have, but so has he. It can't continue forever like this; surely you know that!"

"There is something you must understand, Potter," Snape hissed, looking squarely into Harry's eyes. "The Unforgivable Curses are never used in defense. They are the products of long, ruthless thought, not the sudden whim of a panicked boy."

Harry didn't blink, staring right back at Snape. "I know.

Snape seemed to be measuring Harry in his mind. He nodded. "All right, Potter. I will discuss this with the headmaster—"

"No," Harry said firmly. "No one can know about this but you and me."

Snape's eyebrow rose. "I wasn't asking you a question."

Harry's hand clenched, crinkling the parchment Snape had been writing on. "Neither was I. The less that know, the better; this is illegal and I don't want Dumbledore tied to it. I also have no desire to sit through more concerned lectures. I've had more than my fill. And you owe me. So does he. The least you can do is allow me to exact revenge."

"Revenge," Snape said heavily, "is not—"

"I told you, I am done with lectures," Harry snapped. "Either you teach me or I learn by myself. I don't care how, but I will learn those curses."

Snape kept his mouth shut for a long time, again measuring Harry in his mind. He finally said, "I'll think about it."

That was good enough for Harry. He left.

~*~*~

A/N: I admit, this chapter was very hard to get out; not emotionally, but I just seemed unable to write. I'm not particularly pleased with it, but them's the breaks, kid. Only a few more days! Ack, I gotta get writing! And reading, too! (Though reading all 4 books shouldn't take me too long. ^_^)

I'm sorry if you're disappointed/angry/murderous because Azar truly is dead. If you no longer want to read this fic, that of course is your choice. Even if I wanted to hold a gun to your head, I'd have to buy it first, and I'm too lazy to do that. I will let you know, however, that Azar's far-into-the-future premonition was not false or made up, if that's any consolation.

Thank you everyone who reviewed!

**Jeanne: **Thanks. ^_^

**Jona:** …well, I did. *sheepish* Thanks.

**Sonata:** I know, I know! *hangs head* Sheesh, I get myself nice and used to the idea of her being dead, and then I post the chapter and all you make me feel horrible again! Ah, well… Thank you.

**F75:** Thanks!

**Princess:** Thank you for being nice. ^_^ No, I can tell you, her premonition was true. **However**, Azar's premonitions come scattered, and so they are/were open to her interpretation. Just a warning. ^_^ Thanks!

**Abbey: **lol And here I was thinking I would have a none death-threat review. ^_^ Thanks.

**Trisana:** Yes, Percy is taking someone with him; just not Azar. *runs away quickly, yelling back* Thank you!

**Liliana-Suger:** Hm… Evil person, wonderful writer. Yeah, I can live with that. ^_^ Thanks for the review!

**Humvee:** Yeah, mystery does seem like it would be popular. It's so…mysterious. ^_^ Ah, please don't stop reading! I've had her death planned for so long; I couldn't cop out. Besides, you'll see later, she had to die. Thanks for the review, however wishy-washy. ^_^

**Starry:** I had to. I had her death planned almost since I introduced her… Thanks for the review.

**Chickenhead:** To quote a good book and movie: Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something.

**Elucreh:** :P

**Lil_angel:** Thank you. ^_^

**Slycat-blaze:** Wow, thank you! I'm always ecstatic to get another reviewer/reader! Thank you so much for the review.

**Shrimpo/Jewels:** *feels another wave of guilt* I'm sorry to disappoint so many. Thank you for the review, though.

I'm always blown away by how many reviewers I have! You guys are wonderful.

Be Excellent to Each Other!

-Ady


	25. The Unforgivable Curses

***A/N:  I just have a comment concerning the future of this fic:  Yes, OotP has come out, and I hope all of you have read it at least once by now, it's fantastic.  Consequently, this is now an A/U fic, but I don't mind.  I also want you to know that the plot will not change at all because of what was in OotP.  It's helped with small aspects, but the major plot (i.e., characters dying, conflicts, ending) will remain as I planned.  Thanks.***

Chapter 25:  The Unforgivable Curses

            Sirius massaged his brow, walking slowly down the hall.  He-Was-Such-An-Idiot.  Catherine Connelly's face kept swimming in front of his eyelids.  She hadn't started out angry, but he had soon changed that.  He made her so angry she yelled at him.  She never yelled.

            He was surprised they hadn't woken the whole school with their row.  She just didn't understand.  Of course he'd been stupid enough to tell her that; it hadn't made matters any better.  She'd said of course she didn't; he hadn't given her a chance.  That was what she didn't understand; he couldn't give her a chance.

            With a will of their own, his feet took him off to a desolate area of Hogwarts, one he'd visited many times as a student.  A dark, useless hall had always been the best place to be alone.

            "You come down this corridor, too?"

            Sirius spun around to find Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall.

            "Convenient little hall," he went on.  "All the classrooms are empty, no toilets nearby, and it's a shortcut to nowhere.  Nice, vacant place to think."

            Sirius nodded.  "I came here a few times when I went to Hogwarts."  Then with a smile he added, "Though I used it for a good deal more than just thinking."

            Draco returned the smile.  "You're not the only one."

            Sirius inclined his head with a tilt, raising his eyebrows.  However, he didn't say anything.

            "I don't think, however," Draco said, "that is the reason you came here tonight."

            "Right in one," Sirius said with a sigh, leaning on the wall next to Draco.  "Just had the row of the century and needed some quiet time.  You?"

            "Something along the same lines."

            For a long time, Sirius and Draco just stood in silence, staring at the floor with slight frowns.

            "I just blew up at her," Sirius finally said, running a hand over his face.  "And for no reason.  It's just me; I can be so stupid about these things."

            Draco's eyes were fixed on the ground, and he said, just barely moving his mouth, "I know the feeling."

            Sirius spoke more quietly now.  "She can't understand.  The drop of a hat, and my world ceased to exist.  I had a future, friends, I had someone I loved.  I thought I had someone till death do you part, but that turned into till imprisonment do you part.  It's not easy to forget that."

            "And then you think you have," Draco said slowly.  "You think it's all behind you, but then one instant of doubt brings everything back.  But…really…in the end you have to remember that she is a different person from the first."

            Sirius nodded firmly, his eyes vacant with thought.  "You're right.  You're absolutely right.  It just comes down to taking a chance.  Is being loved worth the risk of being hurt."

            Draco folded his arms, leaning heavily against the wall.  "Is jumping from a cliff worth finding out if you can fly?"

            Sirius let out a great laugh.  "You know," he said, a small glint in his eye, "I've always liked flying."

            Draco forced a smile, something he was definitely not used to doing.  Sirius walked up, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder.

            "You are a wise man, Draco," he said brightly.  "Now get to bed.  I'm sure Filch would be quite pleased to give you a detention."

            Sirius walked off down the hall, but Draco stayed back a while longer.

            "Wise…" he mused with a slight laugh.  "The question is:  do wise men have wings?"

****

            The middle of January seemed to creep upon them like a fog.  Ron was now walking around hand-in-hand with—of all people—Parvati Patil.  Poor Lavender Brown was now seen always trailing a few meters behind her best friend, a lost puppy dog without Parvati at her shoulder.  Hermione was more engrossed than ever in…everything:  she practiced Quidditch in the freezing weather, was actually told by McGonagall to shorten her essays so the professor might read them in one sitting, and Harry could have sworn he saw some underclassmen wearing the long-forgotten S.P.E.W. badges.

            Draco was the only one whose disposition seemed to change.  At first it was definitely not for the better; instead of snapping at anyone who spoke to him, he snapped at anything that showed any indication of being alive, including the moving paintings and suits of armor.  Then suddenly one day, he was all sunshine.  Well, as much like sunshine as Draco Malfoy could be.  When it didn't wear off, Harry was pretty certain it was of the Slytherin's own accord and not due to a Cheering Charm or Sickeningly Sweet Solution or any such magical explanation.

            However this change was brought about, Harry simply decided to accept it and not ask questions.  He had other things to occupy his mind.  N.E.W.T.s were on their way; the teachers knew it, and they were making sure the students knew it.  Harry was having some trouble with the work, and since Ron had become so distinctly chummy with Parvati, he spent many of his nights in the common room working with Hermione.  He couldn't help but look across the room occasionally, however, wishing he had someone to groan over the workload with.

            Meals were little more than mumbled conversation between Harry and Hermione, making Harry miss his friend even more.  Anything to break the monotony would have been welcome.  He ended up getting his wish, though not quite in the way he'd hoped for.  Draco appeared at the Gryffindor table one breakfast, sitting beside Hermione and across from Harry.

            "Hello," he said, snatching up a piece of toast.

            Harry and Hermione mumbled greetings in reply.

            "Hm," Draco snuffed, loading his plate with potatoes, "I've seen a jollier bunch at banshee conventions."

            "You've been to a banshee convention?" Harry asked, determined to keep the silence broken.

            "No, but I theorize."

            Before Harry could reply Hermione suddenly stiffened, her eyes fixed on a point far over his shoulder.  Draco's eyes soon found themselves on the same spot and Harry couldn't help but turn around.  Ron was walking towards them.  He halted suddenly, his eyes going straight to Hermione.  There was a long moment, Ron not moving, Hermione biting her lip.  Then Ron's blue eyes turned into slits and he turned on his heel, walking away.

            Draco raised an eyebrow slightly, catching Harry's eye.  He nodded his head to Ron, then Hermione, then raised his eyebrow higher.  Harry, taking it that Draco was wondering if Ron and Hermione were having a fight nodded and then—as subtly as he could—made a quick gesture of separating his hands to indicate the break-up.  It seemed Draco had been oblivious to what was going on around him the past week, but he apparently understood now, his eyes widening slightly with a tilt of his head.  Without moving his head, Draco glanced over at Hermione.  It was a rather long glance.  When he looked forward again, Harry was scowling at him and shook his head firmly.  Draco just rolled his eyes.

            "I'm done," Hermione murmured, interrupting the boys' silent conversation.  "I'll see you in Potions."

            She left the table quickly; almost the instant she was out of sight, Ron reappeared and sat down next to Harry.

            "Hello," he said stiffly to his plate, piling on food and then shoveling it in his mouth.

            Harry returned the greeting quietly.  A great rushing of wings filled the uncomfortable silence as the mail arrived, and a rather flamboyant ball of gray collided with Ron's head.

            "Ow, Pig!" Ron cried, grabbing the bird roughly.

            Pigwidgeon was unfazed, giving a high-pitched hoot and holding out his leg as best he could from underneath Ron's clenched fist.  Ron snatched the letter and then tossed Pig up, the little owl falling almost onto the heads of some passing Hufflepuff third years before he gained use of his wings and headed for the Owlery.  Ron ripped open the letter, reading quickly.

            "Great!" Ron cried, his eyes clouded over.  "Just great.  After all, it's not like I have anything else to do!"

            He tossed the letter to Harry.

            Dearest Ickle Ron,

            How are you doing?  Good to hear it.  Personally, my wrist makes a nasty popping noise whenever I work a quill, 

so I'll keep this short.  George and I are wanting to expand the business, and where better to turn than good old Hogwarts.  

We want to start a mail order service and it would be helpful if you'd toss the idea around with some friends, see if they'd 

be eager to buy.

            Try to send word back quick; we're on a schedule after all.  Good luck on your N.E.W.T.s; we know you'll need it.

            Fred

PS:  Bit of a seedy bloke came into the shop the other day; wanted a fake wand.  We weren't about to sell our work to such 

a ruffian but he said he knew you, so we decided to take a chance on one of your disreputable friends.  He said to give 

Harry and Malfoy a wave.

            "What was that whole bit about the 'seedy bloke'?" Harry asked, handing the letter on to Draco.

            "How the hell should I know?" Ron moaned.  "All I know is that I don't have any time for their stupid mail order service research or whatever you call it."

            "I'll run it by the Slytherins," Draco said matter-of-factly.  "I know of a few who'd love year-round access to Ton-Tongue Toffees, etc."

            Ron blinked, slightly surprised.  Before he could answer, however, something large and gray fell from the ceiling like a stone, swan diving into the middle of Draco's potatoes.

            "Stupid bird," Ron muttered, reaching for the letter tied to Errol's leg.  "How come none of my owls work?  One seems determined to get a job as a living Bludger and the other can't even collapse in front of the person he's delivering to."

            But before he could touch the letter, Draco had snatched it up.

            "Hey!" Ron cried.  "What'd you do that for?  It's from my mum!"

            "But unless you've changed your name to Draco without telling us, it's not addressed to you," Draco said snappily, color coming to his pallid complexion.

            Ron blinked, looking as though Draco had just said all this in Swedish.  "But why would she be writing you?"

            Draco's hand tightened on the letter slightly.  "Probably because I wrote her."

            This only caused Ron's eyes to go wider.  "And why'd you write to her?"

            Draco's cheeks now looked downright rosy.  He glared darkly at Ron.  "To apologize.  And if you ask for what, I will hex you."

            Before Ron could close his gaping mouth, Draco swept away from the table and out of the hall.  It was a while before Ron stopped staring at the hall doors and turned back to his food, muttering, "No one ever tells me anything, Fred and George saying I have seedy friends, Draco suddenly being pen pals with my mum, what am I supposed to do, huh?  Why don't people tell me things?"

            Harry just shrugged.  Ron had been in a right self-pitying mood since the break-up and the last thing Harry wanted to do was let that turn into anger.

            Things took a downward turn for Harry in Potions.  His mind was too busy with the stranger that visited the Weasley twins' shop and what might be in the letter Mrs. Weasley had sent Draco to concentrate on the potion he was making.  As the class came near an end, a wooden spoon plopping into his cauldron caused him to jump.  Snape had glided to his desk and was now looking over his potion.

            "Why, Potter," Snape said slowly, enjoying every moment, "is it that when everyone's De-mute Solution is supposed to have the consistency of paste, yours is hardly better than water?"

            Harry decided against answering altogether; he was not in a mood for arguing.  Snape straightened up promptly, walking away.

            "Detention, Potter, five o'clock tonight, my office."

            Harry's mood made an abrupt u-turn.  "What?!  Since when—"

            "I said 'detention', Potter," Snape snapped scathingly.  "Be on time."

            Harry just gaped soundlessly at the injustice.  He understood getting points taken away—what else could he expect from Snape?—but a whole detention over a shoddy potion was going a bit far.  Even Ron made it a point to declare that Snape should be boiled in a pot of rat spleens, before he went off on the arm of Parvati, Lavender sulking not too far behind.

            The hours before five o'clock slipped away rather faster than Harry would have liked and he soon found himself scowling at Snape's door in the torchlight.  He knew what Snape's detentions were like; he'd end up cleaning something foul without being able to use any magic.  This didn't bother Harry in the least; he'd cleaned many disgusting things at the Dursley house, not least of which being Dudley's bathroom.  But having Snape leering at him the whole time would make the matter much worse.  With a resigned breath, Harry opened the door.

            "You're late," Snape said, glancing up from the parchment he was writing on.

            Harry decided that pointing out that two minutes could hardly be called late might not be the best way to start the tortuous hours ahead.  Snape put the parchment aside, opened a drawer of his desk, and withdrew a jar.  Unlike the innumerous jars lining his shelves, however, this one did not contain a dead thing floating in some foul liquid; instead, six slugs oozed slowly along the sides.  Harry was a bit confused, but didn't say anything as Snape fixed his gaze on him.

            "Tell me, Potter," he said, almost business-like, "what do you already know?"

            "Huh?"

            "What have you already learned about them?" Snape repeated undauntedly.  "I know, if nothing else, you have some experience from your fourth year."

            Harry stared blankly at him a while before it clicked.  "Oh!  You're talking about the Unforgivable Curses?"

            Instantly Harry regretted the words, the look of admonishment on Snape's face far worse than any sneer or glare.

            "Did you really think, Potter, that I was going to assign you to clean the sinks or harvest frog eyes?"

            Harry didn't tell him that was exactly what he had been thinking.

            Snape's black eyes bore into him.  "Believe me, Potter, if I were to assign you detention, it wouldn't be in my own office.  There are few things I'd enjoy less than being in your company for a good many hours."

            Harry felt a bit confused.  "Then why did you agree to teach me the Unforgivables?"

            If Harry thought Snape had looked disagreeable before, he now looked downright nasty.  "Do you want to get on with the lesson, Potter, or continue coming up with great arguments for my not teaching you?"

            "I want to learn," Harry said quickly.  "I will learn, whether or not you teach me."

            "Yes, I believe that argument was among your ranting when you barged in my office before."

            Snape stood up, pacing around the desk slowly, then facing Harry.

            "We will start with the Imperius Curse; that is generally easiest.  You've had some experience fighting off the curse to a minimal degree, or so I've heard," Snape said, managing to scold and be bored at the same time, "but I doubt even Barty Crouch had enough gall to put you fully under the curse right underneath Dumbledore's nose.  However, we will not bother with defending against the curse just yet; fighting a curse seems to go better if one knows how to be on the giving end."

            Snape took off the lid of the jar, reached inside, and withdrew a slug, placing it on the desk in front of Harry.

            "The Unforgivable Curses, Potter, are unlike any spell you have yet to learn," Snape said in the same tone he used to keep his classes echoingly silent.  "There is no simple waving the wand and saying an incantation.  You have to want the spell to work, to consciously will it to happen.  Many find it nearly impossible to do this."

            Taking his wand out, Snape made a circular sweeping motion and then jerked the wand up, crying, "Imperio!"

            The slug froze in its diligent getaway and its feelers began to pump up and down.  Then it stopped this, moving as if to stand up until it was balanced on its end.  It fell down as Snape took the spell off.

            "Did you notice the wand movement I made when I said the spell?"  Snape asked, staring fixedly at him.

            "The sweep and jerk?" Harry said with a slight smile.

            Snape's eyes darkened.  "Yes, if you wish to use such terms as those reserved for first years."

            Harry stopped smiling.

            "That wand movement, along with the correct pronunciation of the spell and the will to make it work, are all you need.  Sounds simple enough, right?  So try, Potter."

            Harry had rather expected more of a long-winded explanation on how exactly to flick the wand and why he was so likely to fail on the first fifty tries; his eyes went quickly to the desk only to find the slug gone.  Well, rather, to find it oozing along the side of the desk in its now more fervent attempt at escape.  Deciding that having the slug somersault back to the desktop would be impressive, Harry left the slug where it was as he sweep-jerked his wand and cried, "Imperio!"

            The slug just kept on oozing.  Will, Harry reminded himself, I have to will it to work.  He concentrated on the desire to make the slug do somersaults a moment, then tried the spell again.  "Imperio!"

            Again, there was no effect.

            "Impressive, Potter," Snape said with a sneer, clearly enjoying himself.

            Harry scowled.  Of course he couldn't get it; why would anyone want to have a slug under his control?  It wasn't something easy to will to happen.  He had to have a reason behind it for it to work, and a very good reason at that.  …He did have a very good reason:  Snape.  More than anything, Harry wanted to wipe the smirk from Snape's face, to freeze any smug remark before it got past his throat.  He wanted the slug under control so he could one-up Snape.

            This thought blaring in his head, Harry lifted his wand again.  "Imperio!"

            The slug froze.  Slightly surprised at his success, Harry fervently started commanding it to do somersaults.  It still didn't move.

            "A start, Potter; a very small one, but a start no less."

            Harry ignored him, concentrating harder.  A warm sensation crept onto his fingertips and slowly the slug began to curl into a ball.  Then it fell off the desk.

            "Was that your doing Potter?" Snape snapped.

            Harry jumped as though he'd forgotten Snape was there, the warmth on this fingertips vanishing.  "I…I think it was."

            Snape's expression was void of any emotion.  He just stared at Harry a long while and then said, "Very well.  This has taken enough of my time; take the slug with you and practice.  And remember not to be stupid enough to practice in front of others or you'll wish it was simply a matter of detention.  Come back tomorrow, same time."

****

            "A whole week of detentions?!" Ron cried out in disbelief.  "That's vile!  Tell Dumbledore, Harry, he'll set Snape right."

            Harry shook his head.  He was sitting alone with Ron on a sofa in front of the common room fire, telling him the punishment he'd received.  "I've been through worse, Ron, I hardly think detention is worth whining over."

            "But you went just a little spacey about your potion, that's not even enough to get one detention!"

            "Harry has to go again?"

            Ron instantly stiffened, then moved to get up, but Harry grabbed his arm and held him in place; he wasn't going to have to repeat things just because Ron refused to be in Hermione's company.

            "Yeah, but just a week," Harry said, ignoring Ron's glares.

            Hermione sat on the chair beside their sofa, looking shocked.

            "A whole week because of your potion?  Harry, that's not fair—"

            "I'll live through it, Hermione, I promise," Harry said with a smile.  "It's only cleaning out his cupboards, I don't think they've seen a rag in years and that he wants them done all in one go."

            Hermione looked a bit confused; Ron looked determinably at his shoe.  "Are you sure you're alright with this, Harry?" she asked.

            Harry shrugged.  "Snape's not even in the room; he told me what he wanted me to do and left."

            It was a bit awkward, all these straight-faced lies.  Yet Harry didn't want to even imagine their reaction if they knew he was learning the Unforgivable Curses.

            "But I don't…  Harry?" Hermione said, her eyebrows rose.  "Is that a slug crawling on your leg?"

            Ron slapped a hand over his mouth involuntarily.  Harry laughed, scooping up the squishy creature that had escaped from his pocket.  "No worries, Ron, it's from me, not you.  Those cabinets were a bit moldy, I'm sure I just picked this up while I was cleaning."

            For the first time since Hermione had joined them, Ron spoke up.  "Yuck."

            Harry just laughed again, then got up, stretching.  "I'm a bit tired out; I'm going to bed."

            "But Harry, we still have homework."

            A derisive snort came from Ron as he stood up and walked away.  Harry didn't stop him this time.  "It's alright, Hermione, I can get away with not doing it one night."

            "But if you have more detentions this week—"

            "It'll get done, promise," Harry said over his shoulder as he headed up the stairs.

            No one was in the dormitory, so Harry just pulled his bed curtains closed and practiced quietly.  It was harder now, he had no Snape to be displeased at his success.  However, as the hours slipped by, he found it became easier and easier to want to make a slug dance on its end and bounce around like a rubber ball.  Neville came to bed at ten, so Harry had to stop, but he decided he'd made more than a small start.

            The next day, Snape had him spend forty minutes on the slug before he brought out a mouse.  "The more advanced the mind, the harder it will be to control it.  You will have to work your way up."

            It took only an hour for Harry to master the mouse and Snape didn't even tell him to take it to practice on later.  The rabbit took a full night.  Harry could see now why the Imperius Curse was popular; there was something sickeningly satisfying about having complete control over another being.

            The next night Harry went for his lesson, he practiced on the rabbit for only five minutes; Snape had decided to move on.

            "Controlling the mind of a vermin is one thing," Snape said, turning to his desk and putting the rabbit away.  "The human mind, however, is a degree more complex.  You need more challenging targets."

            Harry sighed, trying to envision Ron volunteering to let him and Snape take turns making him do cartwheels.  Somehow he couldn't see it happening.  "Who then?"

            "Me," Snape replied, glancing back at Harry.

            Harry gaped slightly.  "You?  The Imperius?  Professor, I can't—"

            "That, most likely, will be the case," Snape said sharply, facing Harry fully.  "However, you are going to try."

            Harry just held his wand numbly.  Animals and Death Eaters were one thing, but to have complete control over one of his professors, even Snape, was a terrifying idea, however tempting.  His black eyes glinting, Snape raised his wand and pointed it at Harry.

            "Do it, Potter, or I will see what kind of acrobatics you are capable of without a broom."

            Harry knew better than to doubt Snape's threat.  "Imperio!"

            A tingling warmth took hold of Harry's hand like a heavy glove.  Snape stood still and silent, though not nearly so rigid as usual.  His eyes looked a bit vague.  Harry's mind flew, trying to find something to make his professor do.

            'Climb the walls,' he finally decided.

            Snape's voice came back to him in his head, distant yet clear.  'Now really, Potter, even if I wanted to do such a thing, I doubt I could.'

            Harry felt a bit taken aback by the confident answer; it was almost as though Snape hadn't been affected at all.

            'Hop around the room,' he tried.

            'Definitely not.'

            Harry was feeling like a failure.  Snape was even sneering at him now.

            'Jump up on the desk!' he thought fiercely.

            'Take it off, Potter.  I'll help you.'

            Dejected, Harry waved his wand and removed the spell.  Snape's eyes went back to normal.

            "Well," he said sharply, "I can think of three things you did wrong.  First, you started too large.  Second, you questioned your own orders.  Third, you didn't really want it to work."

            Harry was unable to keep his gaze even with Snape's, staring at the man's feet instead.  Later he realized that not watching Snape carefully probably wasn't the best thing to do.

            "Imperio!"

            As though plunged into a lake, Harry felt a dull happiness sweep over him.  The world might have been a white haze for all he noticed.  When Snape's voice came in his head, it was clear and sharp, commanding in a way that Harry didn't even feel the need to question.  Harry remembered when "Moody" had put him under Imperius almost painfully well, but that had only been a tempered dose.  Snape didn't believe in tempered doses.

            'Get on top of the desk.'

            Well, that's not such an absurd request, Harry thought to himself as he almost eagerly followed the orders.

            'Now fly off.'

            That's not too bad either.  After all, I can fly; I've always been able to fly.  I've just never done it before.

            Harry leapt, long and far, and for a moment he knew he was soaring.  Then he crashed into the floor, his ankle twisting beneath him as he fell heavily.  Snape took the spell off and Harry clenched his fists, the pain nearly causing him to shake.

            "Now, Potter," Snape said quietly, "try again."

            Harry stared at him, breathing hard and gritting his teeth.

            "I will not tell you again, Potter.  Unless you would like to give another go at flight."

            Harry leapt to his feet, yelling, "IMPERIO!"

            Snape's eyes took on the appearance of empty bottomless pits, not a glimmer in either, and the power enveloped Harry's whole arm this time.

            "YOU get on the desk!" Harry said aloud.

            'I don't believe I will.'

            Harry felt the anger boiling within him, but tried to control it, to concentrate it on one purpose.

            'Do a cartwheel!'

            'No.'

            Trying to control his breathing, Harry tried to think over what Snape had told him he'd done wrong.  "First, you started too large."

            With a deep breath, Harry decided on his command.  'Take a step forward.'

            '…I'd rather not.'

            'Take a step forward.'

            Snape's foot twitched.  '…pointless, really…'

            'Take a step forward!'

            Not leaving the ground, but undoubtedly moving, Snape's right foot shuffled forward.  Harry beamed, withdrawing the spell.  The warmth drained from his arm and Snape's eyes took on their sharpness once more.  He stared at Harry a long while without a word until the boy's smile had been completely erased.

            "Better."

            And with a wave of his hand, he dismissed Harry.

***

            By the end of the week, Harry had not only got a good grasp of the Imperius Curse, but thanks to Snape's insistence on returning the spell whenever he could break through Harry's, he was better at fighting it.  He hadn't had to in years and the practice was certainly helpful.

            Harry got Monday off merely because he didn't have Potions and so wasn't given detention.  He had planned on doing something spectacular to get detention Tuesday, but the best he could come up with would have ended in angering the very person who was teaching him the Unforgivables, which considering the spells went both ways, probably wasn't the best thing to do.  Instead, he "accidentally" knocked over the table his potion was on, causing it fly and splatter all over the floor.  Squeals and screams rang out, the least of which not being Neville Longbottom's, whose cauldron had been sharing Harry's table.  As Snape swept angrily toward them, Harry felt a pang of guilt, wondering if Neville would get in trouble.  But surely not even Snape—

            "Potter, Longbottom, clean this up this instant!" he snapped.  "Ten points from Gryffindor and you shall both serve detention!"

            Harry bolted up, feeling his face go red.  "Professor, that's not fair, Neville didn't do anything!"

            "I think I am the teacher here, Potter."

            "But it was my fault, completely!  You can't punish him!"  In a hiss, Harry added, "He had nothing to do with it!"

            Snape's countenance had taken on his classic sinister smile.  "Very well then, Potter.  That will be a week's worth of detentions for you alone."

            Murmurs of surprise went through the crowd and Ron looked nothing short of murderous; another week of detentions for something so small was unheard of.  Harry, however, just gaped slightly.

            "How did you know I'd jump to your bait?" he asked the instant he entered Snape's office that evening.

            "Potter, you are as predictable as the phases of the moon," Snape said with a sneer, putting down his quill.  "Nobility has always been your greatest weakness."

            Harry felt his face getting redder.  "Funny.  I always considered it a strength."

            "Not when paired with arrogance and rashness," Snape replied in an even voice.  "In any case, today it was convenient; tripping into your potion is a rather poor way of receiving a week of detentions."

            "I didn't know what potion we'd be doing!" Harry said defensively.  "What if I'd splashed it over your precious Slytherins and they all began sprouting extra arms?"

            "Arms, Potter?" Snape asked, looking slightly amused.

            More heat came to Harry's face.  "It's just an example."

            "To the matter at hand, then.  You're doing adequately at the Imperius Curse, so I will now teach you the Cruciatus," Snape said, getting out the jar of six slugs and pulling an unlucky one out.

            The color in Harry's face fell away faster than snow on a heated roof.  "I don't think I really need to learn the Cruciatus," Harry said slowly, looking with pity at the oblivious slug.  "We could just go on to the Killing Curse."

            Snape was silent.  Feeling awkward, Harry looked up at him slowly, almost reluctantly; his Potions teacher was glaring at him with more loathing than Harry could ever recall.

            "You have been under Cruciatus, Potter, have you not?" Snape said, his voice grating.  Harry nodded.  "Tell me, when you were, did you wish you were dead?"

            His answer came barely above a whisper.  "Yes."  A coldness seemed to sweep through Harry; he'd never told anyone that before.  But then, no one had ever asked.

            "And afterward?" Snape went on.  "Five minutes, two weeks, a year afterward, did you still wish you were dead?"

            Harry's eyes widened and it took him a while to respond.  "N…no."

            "There is more to taking on the forces of evil than death.  Pain is sometimes necessary, Potter."  Snape's eyes narrowed and he drew himself up taller.  "You asked me to arm you against the most feared man living, to put his weapons in your hands.  That I intend to do, and not halfway."

            His mouth dry, Harry nodded as Snape turned to the slug and started explaining how to make it writhe in pain.

****

            "A week's detention for knocking over a few potions and then taking full blame," Ron said in angry disbelief, "and after you'd already had a week!  Snape's been unfair before Harry, but this is just downright nasty."

            Harry did his best to look sullen and angry when he nodded.

            "We should do something," Ron rambled on.  "Raid his office and cast a Multiplying Mold Jinx or something."

            "Great, so I'd get to scrub away at the mold for another week?"

            "Hello."

            Hermione joined them, sitting next to Harry with a sad look.  Ron stiffened, but didn't leave.  Harry took this as a vast improvement.

            "What does he have you doing now, Harry?" Hermione asked sympathetically.

            Harry was ready for this question.  "Well, some of the cupboards still need cleaning.  If I finish that, he'll set me to sorting his store cupboard."

            Hermione's eyes widened slightly.  "His personal store cupboard?"

            "…Yeah."

            Hermione now looked downright skeptical.

            "What?" Harry asked.

            "Well, that seems a bit odd, doesn't it?" she said slowly.  "I mean, if there's anything he's strict about—"

            "What are you going on about?" Ron said scathingly, surprising Harry.  It was the first full sentence he'd heard him say to Hermione since the break-up.  "What is Snape not strict about?"

            Despite their snide nature, Hermione did look a little cheerier to have a few words from Ron.  "Well, if there's one thing he's most strict about it's students not being into his store cupboard.  And he hardly likes you, Harry, I just don't see why he would allow it."

            Harry felt the heat rising to the back of his neck.  He hadn't thought it so odd when he'd come up with the story.  "Er…  Well, I probably won't ever get to that point; those cupboards are nasty."

            "After the week you put in before?" Ron asked, aghast.  "You must clean about as a good as our ghoul, mate."

            Harry forced a laugh at this, but he went off to bed early.  Not feeling up to practicing the sweeping wand movement required for the Cruciatus, he lay in bed inventing more believable punishments.

****

            The Cruciatus Curse turned out to me much harder than the Imperius.  No matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn't seem to want to watch the creatures suffer.  He managed small spurts of pain, trying to pretend the slug was a gruesome Death Eater.  But to hold the curse like Snape did, to make the slug quiver and twist and curl upon itself…  Far from doing the curse successfully, Harry found himself wanting to stop Snape's demonstrations.

            "Potter, stop," Snape ordered one lesson when Harry was having no effect on the crawling slug.  "You can't simply pretend to wish to give it pain; you have to thirst for it, to want it to suffer."

            "But I don't want it to suffer!" Harry said heatedly.  If Snape was frustrated with Harry's inability, it was nothing to how Harry felt.

            Snape sighed, sweeping the slug into its jar.  "Perhaps if we try a different tactic.  Maybe we should move straight to putting the curse on people."

            "Whoa, no," Harry said firmly, shaking his head.  "I am not putting you under the Cruciatus."

            Snape looked half exasperated.  "I assure you, Potter, I've been under the curse before; I know what I can handle."

            "It's not you I'm worried about," Harry said.  "If I can't get it to work, you'll put it on me."

            Snape didn't move for a long time, though Harry thought he saw his mouth twitch.  "All the more reason for you to succeed."

            Harry gulped as Snape readied his wand, but he wasn't about to be caught off guard.  "Crucio!"

            He had no effect whatsoever.

            "Potter, you must will it to happen."

            Harry breathed heavily, a bit angry.  "I know!  I just can't!"

            "Ah, yes, your _nobility_ again.  Arrogance, more like," Snape sneered.  "Just like your father."

            "Crucio!"

            Snape was knocked back, but regained his footing.  "Weak, too.  I once put him under the Cruciatus myself; I enjoyed every moment of it."

            Harry felt a burning behind his eyes.  "Crucio!"

            Snape actually fell over, but was soon back on his feet.  "Not that anyone ever knew about it.  He'd gone soft by then, because of your mother.  She weakened him even more.  The pair of them hindered our cause with their arrogance and inability.  It was a god-send when they died; they deserved to be killed."

            The anger and hate splitting Harry's head was joined by a longing, a black desire to hurt Snape.  He wanted it so much, he could actually envision Snape writhing and squirming and screaming on the floor.  It was a moment before Harry realized the screams were real.

            In a panic, he withdrew the spell.  For a while, Snape clutched to the floor, gasping for breath but trying not to.  Then he got to his feet, facing Harry with cold black eyes.  For a moment, Harry was sure Snape was going to place him under the curse; he wanted to apologize, but for some reason it didn't come out.

            "We can only hope, Potter," Snape said, turning and walking briskly to his desk, "that all Death Eaters will insult your parents.  Dismissed."

            That weekend and the whole following week, Harry didn't have any extra lessons; it would be suspicious if Harry had a third week in a row of punishments, even coming from Snape.  Harry tried to practice, but didn't feel much up to it.  When the lessons picked up again the next week as February rolled around, he was back to slugs; somehow he no longer had trouble.  Friday came and, to Harry's surprise, Snape told him not to come the next week.  When Harry asked when they would meet next, Snape said whenever he decided to continue.

            Nothing much happened the whole week:  the weather was abnormally warm, so Harry started Quidditch practices.  Ron's reluctance to be within earshot of Hermione varied with his mood, as did his determination to be at Parvati's side.  It wasn't until Friday at their first class, Care of Magical Creatures, that something seemed out of order:  Hagrid wasn't there.  Instead, Professor Grubbly-Plank was their substitute and, as usual, refused to tell them anything about Hagrid's whereabouts.

            Then came Prep class and, even more disconcerting, Sirius wasn't there.  Flitwick was filling in temporarily for him but insisted he didn't know where Sirius was.  It became even more apparent at lunch that something strange was going on.  More than half the faces at the staff table were new, and not even Dumbledore was there.  Harry and Ron didn't get much of a chance to discuss this; they were nearly late for Divination.  Once up the ladder, Ron automatically took his place beside Parvati.  After a hopeful glance around, Harry sat next to Lavender with a resigned sigh.

            "Friday the thirteenth," Professor Trelawney said mournfully as she appeared.  "A most dire day when terrible things occur most frequently.  Today, class, we shall gaze into the depths of our crystal balls and try to decipher what horrible happenings fate has for us today."

            They had scarcely been gazing five minutes before Trelawney found herself at Harry and Lavender's table.

            "If you'll allow me, Miss Brown," Trelawney said graciously, peering into the glass.  And, like clockwork, "Oh, Mr. Potter!  The mystical depths of the orb predict dreadful things for you on this cursed date.  I see—"

            "Professor!" Ron suddenly cried out, gazing intently at his crystal ball.  "C'mere, I think I've got something dreadful."

            As Trelawney swept swiftly over, Ron's exclamations went on.  "It's getting bigger!  I can see it awfully clear now.  It's such an ugly beast, like a giant bug of some sort!  I think it's going to atta—oh, sorry, false alarm, Professor, it's only you."

            Most of the class found this uproariously funny.  Parvati Patil did not.

            "She's a bit touchy about the old bat, isn't she?" Ron said, rubbing his head as he and Harry sat together in Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Parvati was sure to get a seat with her sister Padma and a very pleased Lavender as far away from them as possible.

            "Just a bit," Harry nodded.  Truth be told, he'd never seen Parvati that angry and was quite impressed with how hard she could throw a crystal ball.

            When the bell rang, the classroom door opened and a stack of papers came stumbling into the room.  When the papers were deposited unceremoniously onto the desk, however, the person underneath them was not Professor Connelly.  He was a rather small man with a mop of mousy-brown hair and lop-sided glasses.  He seemed a bit out of breath from his rush into the room and looked downright nervous facing the class.  Harry swore he could hardly be much older than they were.

            "Er…hello, er, class," the man stuttered, still breathing heavily.  "I'll be, erm, substituting today—"

            "Marlon?  Hey, Marlon, how are you?!" cried an excited voice from among the Ravenclaws.

            "Marlon" adjusted his glasses, glancing at the class in confusion, then finding the person who'd called his name.

            "Su?" he asked in surprise.  "Wow, Su, I haven't seen you in ages!"

            "Not since you graduated three years ago," replied a girl with short black hair.  "How are you?  What are you doing here?  You're not a teacher, are you?"

            "Oh, no, not yet, I was called in last minute, apparently there's a bit of a shortage today."

            "Where's Connelly?"

            "Who?"

            "Our regular Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

            "Oh, you have a regular one now?  I have no idea, honestly, McGonagall just owled me yesterday…"

            It wasn't until the talking of the rest of the class started to drown him out that the substitute teacher finally stopped his conversation and tried to get class started.

            "Okay, today we've got a bit of research to do.  Oh, my name's Professor Muggs, by the—"

            "Oh, don't you start that professor junk, Marlon!" Su laughed.

            Poor Marlon never got the class in order and ended up declaring them free to do whatever they pleased.  Hermione soon came over to Ron and Harry.  Ron moved to get up, but Hermione yanked him back down directly.

            "Why are so many teachers missing today?" she asked in earnest.  "They're rarely gone at all, much less all on the same day."

            "I don't know," Harry said, shaking his head.  "There was no smoke coming from Hagrid's house, and Sirius would have told me if he was ill or something."

            "It's got to be something to do with the resistance," Hermione said quickly, "and whatever it is, it's big.  A battle or something dangerous like that."

            "What makes you think that?" Ron said stiffly, unable to hold back his curiosity.

            "Look at the classes we've been having," she pointed out.  "Snape has had us making large batches of defensive potions, Hagrid had us harvesting murtlap spines, it fits that if they were planning on attacking, they would want those things, doesn't it?"

            "But why didn't they tell…us?" Harry said, quickly stopping himself from saying 'me.'

            "Secrecy, obviously," Hermione said with a nod.  "But I just don't see how they know enough to actually go out and fight."

            "They have ways of finding out," Harry said quietly.

            "But when will we know if they've succeeded?" Ron said, forgetting any pretense of hating Hermione.  "Will we ever know?  Waiting and not knowing…"

            "I know," Hermione said quietly, "but waiting is all we can do."

            Harry was up late that night, long after the other Gryffindor boys had fallen asleep.  He stared at the top of his bed, wishing Sirius hadn't gone and having the same scene play over and over in his mind.

**            "Never blame yourself, Harry.  It's Voldemort who's done this.  It's Voldemort who's destroyed families.  Believe me, it wasn't your fault."**

**            "…Promise me you'll never die, Sirius."**

**            "You know I can't do that, Harry."**

**            "You have to.  He's taken away so many people I've cared about…  Please promise.  I can't bear to lose another dad, Sirius…"**

**            "…I promise."******

~*~*~

A/N:  First, I want to give a lot of thanks to my beta, Elucreh.  She catches all the small things that are adequate but not as great as their potential, her advice is amazing, and her ideas are brilliant.  Thank you, Elucreh. ^_^

            Second, AH!  Wasn't OotP a great book?!  I bawled, I really did.  And Luna Lovegood!  Oh, what a wonderful character!  I just wish I'd known about her sooner so I could have written her!  *grins happily*  However, I ask this of anyone who reviews:  Don't discuss the book in reviews, at least no specifics, just on the off chance that someone who hasn't read it comes across them.  I can't imagine who in their right mind would be reading fanfic reviews when they haven't read the book, but you never know.  If you want someone to discuss the book with, though, my email's always open and ready:  adyremard@yahoo.com

            Third, wow, you guys are just amazing.  I'm so sorry this chapter took forever; unlike JKR, I have had writer's block.  I'm determined to write, write, write now that the block has lifted.  I'm just flabbergasted that there are people out there with enough patience to still be reading and reviewing my fic.*bows*Thank you.

**Shrimpo****/Jewels:  ^_^  lol  Yah, thank you!**

**Humvee****:  *blushes*  Thank you very much.  I don't know if I mentioned this before, but I had to make my beta promise that I would come to no harm before I would let her read that chapter.  But after reading OotP, I certainly get my end of the stick. *sighs sadly***

**Prongs:**  Thank you. ^_^

**Slycat****-blaze:  *grins*  Thank you.  I like the poem, too; I've no idea how I came up with it.  Knowing my memory, I may not have. lol**

**Liliana-Suger****:  Wow, thank you…**

**Starry:**  I'm pretty sure I made it up.  I'm not positive on that, so I always ask people if they can prove I didn't.  But I think it was me. lol  Yes, I do have a bad memory. ^_^  Thank you!

**Dracos_gurl4ever:**  Thanks!

**Trisana****:  ^_^  Thank you.**

**Interested!:**  lol  Sorry if this'll be a disappointment, but it's nothing special.  I read once in an interview of JKR that Lily's maiden name was Evans. (I recommend The Floo Network.  www.the-leaky-cauldron.org  is a great place for news, and if you want JKR interviews, I believe you click their "Quotes" link.)  As for Trelawney's prediction, Dumbledore once said that Trelawney had made two true predictions and on the internet, I came across people saying that they thought Trelawney's prediction would be mentioned in later books, so I wrote it in.  *grins*  That's the funny thing about fanfiction, hardly anything is truly yours. ^_^  Thanks for the review.

**Coud514:**  lol  I promise, I post the moment I get these things written.  Well, and after my beta's looked over it.  And sometimes ffn isn't working when I try to put it up…  Yeah. ^_^  Thank you!

**Louise Luvgood:**  Thank you.  And how I would have LOVED to have known about Luna Lovegood before I wrote these stories, but sadly, I did not.

**Colibi****:  ^_^  Thank you.**

**Tanya:**  *smiles*  Reminds me a lot of theories about a certain someone in OotP.  ^_^  I'm afraid I can beat that, though:  I'm the author; what I say, goes. ^-^  Thanks for the review!

**Yuri Prime:**  *bursts out in laughter*  Oh, thank you!  I was feeling somewhat melancholy, but that review! *laughs*  Thank you.

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady

PS—  I have done everything I can to the ruddy format, but fanfiction.net does NOT like my computer for some odd reason.  For this, I apologize.  Sorry.


	26. The Third Holiday

Chapter 26:  The Third Holiday****

            The next morning at breakfast, many of their professors were still missing.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged significant looks, and Harry was sure he saw Draco gazing at all of them shrewdly from the Slytherin table.  It wasn't until Ron had gone off with Parvati and Hermione was helping a first year he'd never seen before, however, that Draco came up to Harry, hissing, "You think there's been a battle, too, don't you?"

            "There's hardly another explanation," Harry said, almost instinctively.****

            "Why didn't they take us?" Draco said, trying to yell and whisper at the same time.

            "What?"

            "You and me, we're the last Heirs left, and they didn't even tell us anything."

            Harry stared at him as though the thought had never passed through his mind.  "But…we're not ready, are we?"

            "I am ready.  They will never see us that way, though.  If only they would let us take things into our own hands—"

            "So others can die?!" Harry said, having trouble keeping his voice down.  "Look what happened the last time we took things into our own hands!"

            Draco was silenced for a few moments.  "They could have at least told us.  Why leave us in the dark?"

            "Because they knew you'd insist on going."

            Harry and Draco jumped, finding Hermione had joined in on their conversation.  Her brown eyes glittered and her jaw was set in firm mirror image of McGonagall.

            "They were right, weren't they?" she said quietly.  "And they were right to not want you to go.  You're not ready."

            "What would you know about it?" Draco said calmly, though the words couldn't hide the storm clouds in his eyes.

            "I know you, both of you," Hermione replied, just as calm.  "War is never to be taken lightly, and there is a big difference between wanting to fight and being forced to fight.  I don't know if you see that well enough yet."

            "I know the difference," Draco said, barely audible.

            Hermione's eyes flashed slightly.  "Then you should be able to accept the fact that you weren't asked to fight."

            "You don't understand."  Draco's teeth were clenched now.  "We are the last remaining Heirs.  It is up to us to finish this."

            "It doesn't have to be!" Hermione said a little loudly, quickly shushing** herself.  "You're not bound by fate!"**

            "No, but we're not going to ignore it either!" Draco hissed.  "We will fight, no matter what anyone says, that is certain."

            "I don't want you to die!"

            The conversations around them stopped abruptly as Hermione yelled this sentence, no one bothering to pretend not to stare.  Hermione's cheeks went a little red, but she continued to stare furiously at Draco; she abruptly stood and hurried out of the hall.  Slowly, the people surrounding them drifted back into their own lives, though a few ears remained perked.

            "We need to talk," Draco said pointedly to Harry, leaving the table.

            Harry followed, still trying to sort out the argument he'd been no part of.  Draco stopped the instant they were out of the Great Hall.

            "How much does she know?" he hissed.

            "What?"

            "Hermione.  Unless I'm very much mistaken, she knows about the prophecy.  She wasn't supposed to know about it last I knew."

            Harry shook his head.  "She's not supposed to."

            "Then how does she?"

            It didn't take long for Harry to answer.  "Azar."

            "What?"

            "Azar wrote me before Christmas…  She may have done the same in Hermione's case.  She could have told her about the prophecy."

            Draco tried to hide his anger.  "She knew better than that!  There was no reason—"

            "To protect us," Harry said firmly.

            Draco shot him a look.  "Azar?  Trying to protect us?  Rather hypocritical of her, don't you think?"

            Harry shook his head again.  "She blamed herself for James.  If she knew that she wouldn't be here to hold us back…then I'm sure she would have made sure someone was there.  Hermione."

            "Why is everyone trying to protect us?!" Draco cried.  "If we die, we die; if we live, we live.  Simple as that."

            Harry only heard this out of the corner of his mind; he'd remembered something.  "Draco…  Azar told me that when…on Halloween, Voldemort tried to kill you.  With Avada Kedavra.  But before it hit you, it split into two and ended up hitting some trees instead.  Why did that happen?"

            Draco stared at him, a little taken aback.  "Why are you bringing this up now?"

            "The prophecy said we were all going to die; you should have died that night."

            "Oh, thanks, I love you too, Potter."

            "You know what I mean."

            "The prophecy also said it would stop," Draco pointed out.  "That someone with good intentions would start a war or something."

            "But they didn't stop that night or Azar wouldn't have died.  Why did you live when she died?"

            Draco's eyes darkened instantly.  Harry felt guilt settle in his stomach like a stone.  "Draco, I…didn't mean it that—"

            "No, I understand," Draco said coolly.  "Why couldn't your girlfriend have lived and the Slytherin died instead.  Frankly, I don't know why the hell not."

            Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out.  He just stared at Draco, who was studying the wall.

            "I have a Transfiguration essay to do," Draco said suddenly, turning and walking away abruptly.

            Harry stared after him but, feeling eyes on his back, quickly closed his mouth and turned around.  Professor McGonagall was standing there; how much she'd heard, he didn't want to know.

            "We need to talk, Mr. Potter."

            There was a strain to her voice that instantly made Harry suspicious and afraid.  He looked at her urgently, but her expression was impassive, though her lips seemed a little thinner and her eyes mistier than usual.

            He didn't get a chance to say anything before she turned and said, "Follow me."

            Harry did so without a word, not noticing the stares they got from a few passing students as they headed for the professor's office.  With a slight jolt, Harry realized he could actually see over her head.  When had he grown so tall?  Or had McGonagall shrunk?  

            She ushered him through the door first, motioned for him to sit, and then took her own seat across from him.  Her expression was now a little more readable and only succeeded in adding more stones to Harry's stomach.

            "I'm not going to pretend nothing has been going on these past few days," she said heavily.  "I know by now to expect you to know more than I expect.  I'm sure you've noticed the absence of many teachers.  Do you know why?"

            Harry found it a bit hard to speak; his mouth had gone dry.  "There was a battle against Voldemort."

            Professor McGonagall nodded.  "The Ministry received some compelling information and decided the time to act had come.  Many professors here at Hogwarts found it was their duty to help in any way possible."

            She paused, her eyes darting to the side.  The stones in Harry's stomach turned into hopping toads.

            "They knew the risks," McGonagall said in one breath.  "War is never without grave risks, Mr. Potter, but all those who fought were willing to take the chance.  Each one was willing to give his or her life to the cause."

            The toads were now fighting violently, struggling and straining against the lining of Harry's stomach.  One seemed to have found its way into his throat.

            Professor McGonagall took a sharp breath.  "Harry…  Rubeus Hagrid fell."

            The toads were silent.  "Hagrid?" he breathed.

            McGonagall nodded.  "He fought bravely, even capturing two Death Eaters.  I…I'm afraid that his size left him…something of a target.  I know you were close to him, Harry."

            It was Harry's turn to nod, though he hardly felt himself do it.  His mind was elsewhere, in a shack in the middle of the ocean, with an unsteady door, a sagging couch, and his first ever birthday cake.

            "I'm afraid I have more to tell you, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said tentatively, bringing Harry from his reverie.

            The toads seemed to wake up and were now all the more frantic to escape, also seeming to have doubled in number.

            "Sirius is missing."

            The toads died.

            "We do not know yet if he is dead," McGonagall said quickly, "however, we must be prepared for the worst."

            Harry hardly heard her.  He couldn't feel his feet, and even his eyes seemed miles away.****

**            "Promise me you'll never die, Sirius."**

**            "…I promise."**

            "Harry?"

            He looked up but hardly took in his professor's face, long and tired.  "Harry, Professor Dumbledore will give this information to the school at large this evening.  I felt, however, that as you are so closely akin to two of those regarded…  You may stay in my office for as much time as you need."****

            She stood up, gripping his shoulder gently, and then left the room.  Harry didn't move, didn't even notice anything but the voices and images spinning in his head.

            **"He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world.  Seven years there and he won't know himself…."**

**_            "__No, this was_****_ Godric's Hollow."_**

**             "Jus' got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead…"**

**             "…I'm to blame, I know it…"**

**            "Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it.  'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead—anyway, got yeh this…"**

**            "But…well…think about it.  Once my name's cleared…if you wanted a…a different home…"**

**            "Yeh did as much as yer father would've done, an' I can' give yeh no higher praise than that…"**

**             "You are—truly your father's son, Harry…."**

            **_"All righ' there, Harry?"_**

****

            It was dinnertime before Harry reappeared.  Ron was stirring his food and glaring at it as though it had just insulted him, the aftermath of another fight with Parvati; he'd forgotten it was Valentine's Day.  Draco's look nearly matched his, though it was directed toward a vague corner of the Hall as opposed to his pudding.  Hermione didn't appear to be broody, but then as her face was buried in a book, it was rather hard to tell.  In any case, Harry's addition did nothing to change the mood of the group.  No one seemed particularly interested in what was wrong with the others.

            Not long after Harry, Dumbledore entered the Great Hall.  He made no preamble about readying his food but went right to the middle of the staff table, standing with a straighter back than anyone would expect of someone his age.

            "I need your attention," he said, somehow managing to echo above the various chattering.

            There was a ring to Dumbledore's voice, a certain grimness to his eyes and severity of his mouth, that silenced the hall quicker than the most deadly of Snape's glares.****

            "It would be an insult to pretend none of you have noticed the absence of many professors the past two days," he began.  "It would be even more of an insult to try and continue the charade as some professors will be missing for a few weeks, and some will never return."

            Harry felt as though someone had twisted his stomach and tied a knot in his esophagus.  He didn't want to look at Dumbledore; he didn't want to look anywhere else.

            Dumbledore's voice, though quiet, rang off the walls.  "You all have known for a long time the struggle that exists between the Ministry of Magic and an insurgent, Lord Voldemort.  Early morning Friday, a contingent of Ministry fighters went to battle with Lord Voldemort's supporters in an effort to end this.  Many Hogwarts professors found it was their duty to join in this endeavor."

            A wave washed over the crowd, whispers and turning heads flowing over the hall and then going still and silent once again.  All eyes, glowing orbs in the candlelight, turned once again toward Dumbledore.

            "As in all wars, the price paid to keep Voldemort at bay has been dear, and this battle was no exception.  And as past events can attest to,Hogwarts professors are not immortal or immune to suffering.  I am sorry to say that two professors were lost in the battle:  Professor Rubeus Hagrid of Care of Magical Creatures, and Professor Archimedes Vector of Arithmancy."

            Not a whisper of wind went through the Hall.  A few heads turned, some people cast sideways glances at each other, one suppressed sob came from the Hufflepuff table, but no one else had even taken their eyes from Dumbledore's face.  A few faces had frozen at the words, a few had teared up, a few refused to believe it.

            Harry kept his gaze on Dumbledore, hardly daring to breathe.  He couldn't face Ron and Hermione, not now.  If he even saw their faces, he was sure he would break.

            From the head table, Dumbledore picked up a goblet, holding it in front of him.  His blue eyes, somber and heavy, scanned the Hall.

            "I ask you to drink to their memory."

            A scraping of chairs, the slight clink of metal, "Professor Hagrid, Professor Vector," drink.

            Dumbledore wasn't finished.  "There are also some professors for whom the battle is not yet ended.  Professor Sirius Black of Preparing for the Future, Professor Alice Haight of Muggle Studies, and Professor Severus Snape of Potions are unaccounted for.  We can only hope for their safe return.  Keep them in your hearts."

            Dumbledore didn't sit down.  He gave the full Hall a nod, then turned and walked out the double doors.  Harry knew he didn't want to talk to Ron and Hermione, and simply followed Dumbledore's lead.****

            Harry was alone in the common room for ages before people began to file in from dinner.  He didn't move from his seat; Ron and Hermione would want to talk.  And maybe he did, too.****

            It wasn't long before they came in, sitting near him in silence.  None of them moved or spoke or even looked at each other.  They sat there, staring into the fire, as the common room filled and then quickly emptied.  It was late when finally Ron made the first move; he got up and stirred the dying fire.

            Hermione seemed to wake up.  "We'd better get started on Professor Sprout's essay," she said briskly, taking a book from her bag.

            Ron stared at her, poker in hand, a mixture of anger and betrayal in his eyes.  "How can you think of homework now?" he said, putting the poker back with an unnecessary amount of noise.

            "Well it has to get done, hasn't it?" she snapped.  Hermione started flipping through the book faster than she could possibly be scanning the pages.  "Life goes on, doesn't it?" she said quieter, her voice cracking slightly.  "We don't stop living just…just because they—he…"****

            She stood up suddenly, the book falling unchecked to the floor, and walked a few paces away, turning her back to them.  Her hand huddled against her mouth, and by the way she hunched her shoulders it was clear she was crying.  Ron glanced quickly at Harry but he could only Hermione, wanting to join her in her tears but unable to.  With a deep breath, Ron walked over to Hermione, placing a hand on her shoulder.  She turned around and, without even looking up, buried her head in his shoulder.  Gently, Ron put his arms around her.

            "It'll be okay, Hermione," he whispered.  "I'm here for you; it'll be okay."

            Slowly, Harry stood up, looking for a long time at his two friends lost in their shared pain.  Then he went straight for the staircase, up into the dormitory, and to bed.

****

            Harry heard Ron when he came up to the dormitory.  He heard the small shuffling as the boy shucked off his shoes and dropped into bed, the sound of slow, metered breathing filling Harry's ears.  He just sat against the headboard, staring at the folds of his bed curtains.  For some reason, he wasn't tired.  He hadn't even changed into his pajamas or taken off his shoes; there didn't seem to be any real reason for it.

            Looking at his photo book didn't help.  He couldn't help but keep wondering how these people could be so important in his life, but he didn't have many pictures.  It seemed now that it would have made far more sense to have taken photos of their every movement, and he'd never done that.  Hagrid had given him the album, and he didn't even have a picture of him in it.

            Harry slammed the book shut, rubbing a hand over his face and blinking away the heat in his eyes.  He got up quickly but silently, slipping the album into his trunk.  Then he just stood there; there was nothing left to do.  With a shake of his head, he turned around to give sleep another try.  ****

            The waxing moon outside the window pane glowed almost unnaturally bright.  A day or two, Harry reckoned, and Remus would be curled up in some corner room, trying to forget the long snout under his eyesight and tail that trailed his every step.  Had Remus fought, Harry wondered.  Had he charged in beside Sirius?  Had he lost him?

            Harry leaned his forehead against the cool glass pane and stared at the grounds, as he had so many nights before.  And as so many nights before, he watched the shadows of the forest wave along the grass with the sway of the wind.  And as so many nights before, he saw a shadow emerge from the rest that certainly didn't belong to a tree.  Harry straightened up, blinking several times.  Was it a runaway cat, perhaps?  Or maybe some wayward centaur?

            Harry squinted harder.  No, he wasn't imagining it; there was a figure struggling to make its way across the grounds.  It looked terribly hunched and was limping.  His heart leapt and he knew—without a doubt—that it was Sirius.  It had to be.****

            "Survivors!" he yelled grabbing his wand.  "Wake up, Ron!  There's someone coming!"

            Deep groans emitted from the four other boys as they woke to the cries.

            "Harry, wha—"

            "Get Madam Pomfrey!" he yelled, and then he raced out of the dormitory, out of the common room.  He nearly smashed into Filch as he ran to the entrance hall, and answered his snarls only with, "Sirius!  Outside!  Hurt!"

            As Harry burst open the entrance doors, leaping down the stairs in one bound, he whipped out his wand and cried, "Lumos!"  The terribly hunched figure, he realized now, was two people, one supporting the other heavily.  When Harry's wandlight finally reached the men, he saw in an instant that Sirius was the one being held up.  One of his legs dragged along behind him at an odd angle; makeshift bandages wrapped around Sirius' abdomen were stained red; he clung tight to his companion, only half-heartedly trying to walk with his good leg.

            "Sirius!" Harry cried, running up and taking hold of him.  The man who had been dragging Sirius along gladly let go, Harry now his godfather's only support.****

            Close up, Sirius looked even worse.  His face was paler than Harry had seen it since his third year and had a hollow look about it.  His eyes were searching and unfocused, pausing in question on Harry's face.

            "No…  No, you can't, Sirius!" Harry cried, holding onto his godfather.  "You promised you wouldn't die!"

            Sirius' eyes seemed to sharpen, and he gave a small smile.  "I haven't yet, Harry," Sirius said quietly, placing a heavy hand on the boy's head.  "And I don't intend to.  Not now; not ever."

            "They're alive!"

            Filch had apparently gone for Professor McGonagall who sprinted across the grounds, holding up her bathrobe slightly to keep from tripping and clutching to keep her nightcap on her head.  "I can't believe it!  I can not believe it!  You're alive!"

            "Sirius is hurt," Harry said quickly as she reached them.

            Professor McGonagall conjured a stretcher and Harry eased Sirius down onto it.  The man gladly lay back with a contented sigh.  "Oh yeah, this is much better than walking."

            McGonagall turned her attention to the other man.  "Are you all right?  Do you need any medical attention, Severus?"

            Until that moment, Harry hadn't even glanced at Sirius' companion, but he whirled around instantly at McGonagall's address.  It was Snape.

            "No, I'm fine."

            At these words, McGonagall turned back to Sirius, questioning him on his wounds.  Harry, however, just stared, unable to move or speak or even hardly to breathe.  Snape's piercing eyes met his for just a moment, filled with contempt.  Then a sudden cry brought Harry to his senses.  Whether the work of a somnolent Ron or frantic Filch, Harry never knew, but a becurlered Madam Pomfrey rushed to their sides.  She instantly went to work, hurriedly ushering Sirius' stretcher into the castle.  Harry and Professor McGonagall followed at a gait, leaving the Potions master alone.

~*~*~

A/N:  Sorry it's been so long, folks.  I'm in college now, and about to go through my first hurricane. *laughs*  Yeah, interesting stuff.  I plan on getting this ruddy fic done soon enough, but I make no promises because I rarely keep them. *sigh*

            OH!  And don't anyone tell me that it couldn't possibly have been Valentine's Day, because I did the math when reading, and did it again after my beta insisted I had it wrong, and believe me, it IS correct.  My beta scared me near a heart attack when she said that, so sorry if I seem to be harping on it.

            Thank you everyone who reviewed!  I adore you people, I really do!

**Jona****:  *cracks up*  "People, Professor?"  "Yes, I have rounded up some Muggle vict—volunteers…"  I will tell you this:  It's not Ron. *lol***

**Elucreh****:  *sigh*  I'm sorry, but I always take your suggestions as suggestions.  Normally they are very good and I quickly change the error, but sometimes I like my way better or feel too lazy to find a better way. ^_^  Oh, yeah, Percy…**

**Shrimpo****/Jewels:  Thanks.**

**Mronimusha****:  Bwa-ha-ha, you're foiled!  Thanks for the thought, though. *lol***

**Colibi****:  Ow.  Good a time as any to write, though, eh?  *giggles evilly*  I can't wait for the Killing Curse lessons…  Thanks!**

**Cloud514:**  LOL  Thanks.

**Yuri Prime:  **Not working, dear; sorry. ^_^

**Tanya:**  *ROFL*  Okay, okay, I get the picture!  It really was a hard one to get out; they all seem to be getting harder. *sigh*  Thank you for all the reviews!

**Boris:**  Thanks!

**Chrono**** Legionnaire:  No, no, I certainly don't have it all written.  I have it planned, but writing it down is a whole 'nother ballgame.  ^_^**

**Louise Luvgood:**  Thank you for thanking me for thanking you in my A/N. *lol*   Wow, thank you so much.

**Hermionedastar****:  Thank you!  Sorry, don't have much time atm, but I'll try.**

**Starry:**  *lol!*  I WISH!  To have her skill and fame and wow, yeah, not even close.  Thank you!

**Yerbroham****:  Thank you!  Yeah, Sirius is still alive at the moment.  It was the shock of my life when the possibility of Sirius' death first hit me (reading Christmas scenes in OotP).**

**Humvee****:  I could have made the cliffhanger far worse… ^_^  Thanks.**

**Abbey:**  ^_^  Thanks, Tabbey. *bwa-ha-ha*

**Trisana1:**  Thank you!  ^_^ lol

**Slycat-blaze1:**  Thanks!  I figure with all the magic going on at Hogwarts, and the boundaries set up, pinpointing a spell in there would be pretty hard.

**Liliana-Suger****:  LOL  Hopefully you remember this go around. ^_^  Thanks!**

            *does happy "I finally got a chapter up!" dance*  Thank you everyone!  And here's hopin' the hurricane doesn't spoil my weekend! ^_^

            Be excellent to each other!

                        -Ady


	27. The Dragon's Egg

Chapter 27:  The Dragon's Egg

            Harry gritted his teeth, trying not to yell.  "Madam Pomfrey, please."

            "For the last time, Mr. Potter, no!" the nurse shot back.

            "Why not?!"  It was getting harder to keep his voice even.

            "As you well know, Mr. Potter, he needs his rest!" she declared as though it was the most sacred and unbreakable commandment.

            "He's had his rest!  I didn't try to talk to him last night, I didn't get in your way, I didn't even put up a fight when you told me to leave," Harry said quickly.  "Please, I need to be there for him."

            "Then write him a get-well card!" Madam Pomfrey said with a firm scowl.

            Harry clenched his fists, taking a deep breath.  "Madam Pomfrey, what if that was me?  What if Sirius was demanding to see me?  You'd let him."

            Madam Pomfrey's scowl deepened and she took a quick glance away from him.

            Harry knew he had her.  "I know he's not a little boy, but neither am I.  That doesn't mean we don't need our family."  He tried his best to look both pleading and very adult.

            Madam Pomfrey scowled at him for a long time, her eyes like those of a sailor after the captain declared they were taking a three-month side trip after a year at sea.  Harry widened his eyes slightly, hoping to sway her sympathies.  The nurse threw up her hands.

            "Oh, all right, Mr. Potter!" she cried.  "But if he gets worse, then you can just go blame yourself!"

            Harry beamed and suddenly took her into a hug.  "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey!"

            "Go on, get in there!" she snipped, pushing him away.  "You only have five minutes, and I could change my mind!

            Harry just laughed and stepped into the hospital wing as the nurse finally relinquished her stronghold.

            Sirius occupied the bed farthest from the door, and Harry felt a bit odd, not only about being on the visiting end for once but also at seeing an adult there.  The man rested against a mound of pillows, partially sitting up, and his head was tilted far back.  As Harry got closer, he noticed his godfather's eyes were closed and worried a moment that he might be asleep.

            "Sirius?"

            His eyelids pulled back slowly and for a while Sirius stared at the ceiling.  Then slowly he turned his head and saw Harry.  His face broke out into a smile and he shifted slightly as though trying to sit up straighter; it didn't work.

            "Hey Harry," Sirius said, his voice somewhat slurred and his eyes a bit vague.  He reached a hand out and placed it heavily on Harry's shoulder.  "How are you?"

            "I'm fine," he said, returning the smile and placing his hand over Sirius'.  "What about you?"

            "Oh, I'm doing great," Sirius said, beaming.  "Wasn't feeling too good this morning but Poppy helped.  Sorry if I sound a bit odd; she doped me up pretty good."

            A loud snort made Harry jump and turn his head a little too fast for comfort.  Madam Pomfrey was tidying up the other beds and tables in the room, glancing at them with contempt every now and then.

            "Gotta love that woman," Sirius said, giving Harry a wink.

            Madam Pomfrey gave another derisive noise as she moved to the next bed.

            "Hey, I hope I didn't worry you too much," Sirius said, his voice thickening.  "I woulda come back quicker, but Snape forced me not to apparate."

            "And rightfully so!" Madam Pomfrey cried.  "You should never do magic when in such a delicate state."

            Sirius waved his hand absentmindedly.  "It's not like I was having a baby."

            "Well, the same rule applies," she huffed, going into her office with a slam of the door.

            Sirius looked after her with a vague grin.  "Poppy has such a knack for ending a conversation…"

            Harry just smiled at him, glad to see he wasn't in too much pain.

            After a while of silence, Sirius finally said, "You can ask, you know."

            Harry jumped slightly.  "What?"

            "What were we doing?  How did the battle go?  What happened?" Sirius smiled.  "I know you're burning to ask."

            "Well…yeah.  Only if you feel up to it, though."

            Sirius waved his hand off-handedly.  "'Course I'm up to it."

            They sat in silence for a while.  Harry started to feel a bit awkward.  "Well?"

            "Huh?"

            "Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"

            "Oh. …I don't know where to start…"

            Harry thought a moment.  "Well, how did you and Snape get back if you didn't apparate?"

            "Who says we didn't apparate?"

            Harry stared at him, his brow slightly furrowed.  "I… well, you did."

            "Oh!  I just meant he wouldn't let me apparate at first.  He thought I'd muddle it royally since I'd been delirious all day—"

            "Delirious?" Harry asked, slightly shocked.

            "Ah, no.  I just wasn't all there, unconscious, you know?  Can't blame me though, can you, after getting a lovely slice like this?"  He gave his chest a pat and then winced.  "Okay, won't do that again.  Did you know Snape even tried to get me on a stretcher?  Ha, I wasn't about to accept his help."

            Harry's eyes were wide.  "Sirius, but—"

            With a sound both like a grunt and a groan, Sirius lay back again.  He closed his eyes, his head tilted so that he fully faced the ceiling.

            "Siri—?"

            "Bit of a strange battle," he slurred, hardly moving his lips.  "I been in 'em before…  'Course…things're different…"

            Harry stayed quiet, not even sure if Sirius was talking to him anymore.

            "I found Voldemort," Sirius said quietly.  "He recognized me.  I'm glad he did; woulda killed a stranger without a second thought.  I could provide him with some amusement.  He …" Sirius' voice cleared up.  "Well, I eventually ended up under the Imperius Curse, and he brought me up, face to face with him.  Then he said something about how convenient it would be to have the godfather of Harry Potter under his complete control.  I didn't think about it really, but I guess I broke the curse 'cause next thing I knew, I'd punched him."

            Sirius gave a short laugh, looking over at Harry.  His eyes seemed far off.  "I slugged the Dark Lord right in his slitted nose.  'Course his minions weren't about to allow that to continue.  I soon had my own experience with a fist to the face, and then Voldemort—I think it was Voldemort—he pulled out his wand and there was a bright red light.  I felt a searing through my chest; hurt like hell.  I guess the pain made me step back, and I tripped.  I found out how close to the hillside I'd been.  I tried to stop myself from tumbling, but it was too steep.  I guess I hit my head against a rock or tree or something because next thing I knew, Snape was sitting next to me.  …I'd meant to kill him, but at least I hit the bastard."

            Sirius' head went back to its tilted position, his eyes closed again.  Harry spoke up uncertainly.  "Why?  Why did you go after Voldemort like that?"

            "I promised to," Sirius said, his lips barely moving.  "I'd promised I wouldn't let him hurt you again, but he did.  I failed to protect you, and now I've failed to kill him."

            Harry stared at him, his mouth open but unable to utter a sound.  Sirius had nearly killed himself, and for what?  To protect him from what he'd been going through all his life?  Harry didn't want to think about it, quickly changing the subject.  "You don't remember anything?  I mean, about the time when you were delirious."

            Sirius gave a derisive snort, shaking his head.  "The time Snape says I was delirious, you mean."

            Harry hadn't thought his eyes could get any wider, but they did.  "Sirius, the man saved your life."

            His hands fidgeting, Sirius said slowly, "Not necessarily.  I could have lived without his help, perhaps.  Who's to say I couldn't have?"

            "Madam Pomfrey's to say, for one," Harry said, slightly tense.  "I say so, too.  And you know so, Sirius.  You would have died if he hadn't come along."

            Sirius seemed to be determined not to meet Harry's gaze.  "Okay, so let's say I owe him my life.  Well, he owed James his life, and James owed me forty galleons, so I'd say we're all pretty well even."

            "Forty galleons?" Harry said, trying to follow Sirius' logic and failing miserably.

            Sirius seemed to realize the absurdity of his words, opening and closing his mouth in several attempts to get another bit of reasoning out.  Finally, he looked directly at Harry, and he was surprised to see his godfather near tears.

            "I can't owe him anything," Sirius said, his voice straining.  "Can't you understand that, Harry?  I tried to kill him, almost did it too, and now he does this.  I can't owe him anything, not a life, not a sickle, not a quill.  I can't."

            There was a long pause before Harry spoke, his voice slow and quiet.

            "Well I do owe him, Sirius, even if you don't."

            Sirius stared at him in a mixture of hurt and confusion, but Harry just got up and headed for the door.  Madam Pomfrey suddenly swept out of her office.

            "That's it, Potter, it's been more…than…"  She trailed off, watching Harry leave.  For a while, she stared after him, then looked at Sirius, and then just stood there, at an absolute loss.  "I…um… Well," she said firmly, nodding her head.  "He knows better than to try to argue with me."

            And with that, she swept back into her office.

****

            When Remus Lupin entered Catherine Connerly's office, he had every reason to be slightly surprised.  Bandages, a basin of water, and a rag looked out of place on her paper-strewn desk and her right sleeve was pulled back to revel a white bandage.  Moreover, she was currently tugging at a knot on the bandage with her left hand and teeth.

            Remus cleared his throat and Catherine jumped, sitting up sharply with wide eyes.

            "Trying to gnaw our arm off, are we?" Remus asked, amused.

            Catherine shook her head with a laugh.  "Yes, it's getting rather bothersome.  You know, always right there by my side.  One can't help but be annoyed."

            "Well, I'm afraid it's the wrong time of month for me to want to bite your arm off," Remus said with a small smile, pulling up a chair and sitting next to her, "but I could help with that bandage."

            Catherine sighed.  "I suppose it'll have to do."  She gave Remus a wink

            In silence, Remus undid the makeshift knot, slowly unraveling the wrapping.  As he got to the final layer, Catherine winced.  He slowed even more, gently peeling the once-white fiber from her sore skin, still moist with blood.  Without a word, he pulled the bowl of water closer, moistening the rag and dabbing the blood away.  He couldn't help but throw her a questioning glance, which she smiled at.

            "Don't look so worried," she assured him.  "Surrounded by Death Eaters and I get my arm scraped up by a stupid rock."

            "It's a pretty bad scrape," he said, picking up a clean bandage.

            "Well, it was a pretty nasty rock," she said, adding with a smile, "I beat it in the end, though.  It went home crying."

            Remus just shook his head, bandaging the wound back up.

            "You really should have Poppy look at this," he said gently.  "It's been a couple days and if it isn't healing—"

            "No, I'm fine," Catherine said firmly.  "She has more important things to worry about."

            "…Or, rather, people, do you mean?" he said with a slight smile.

            Catherine didn't return the look.

            Still bandaging her arm, Remus asked, "You really love him, don't you?"

            Her voice was hollow when she replied and Catherine kept her eyes on Remus' work.  "Yes, I do.  But I wish I didn't."

            Remus stopped bandaging her arm, looking straight at her.  "Why?"

            "I don't think he loves me back."

            It was all Remus could do to hold back a bitter laugh.  "You must be joking, Catherine.  He adores you."

            "Doesn't mean he loves me," she pointed out.  "I don't know if you've noticed, but lately—"

            "I have," he interrupted quietly.

            "Then you know what I'm talking about!" she cried, throwing out her arms and knocking the old bandage to the floor.  "Clearly he's realized he's not in love with me and is finding it hard to tell me so."

            "…  Either that or he's just tired of your impossibly frizzy hair," Remus smiled, picking up the dropped bandage and putting it on her desk.

            "You're evading the subject, Remus," Catherine said forcefully.  "And badly at that.  Why?  What do you know?"

            "Nothing.  No, I'm serious, Catherine, I don't know anything.  I do guess, though.  And my guess is that Sirius loves you more than he's loved anyone," Remus said.  "He's just having…trouble."

            Catherine sighed.  "I just don't understand.  Sometimes he's so open, but others…"

            "I know.  He wasn't always like this," Remus said slowly, going back to the bandages.  "He used to love and be loved, or hate and be hated.  Every emotion he felt was clear and strong, and rarely movable.  But Azkaban seemed to change that…  I've thought about this, more than once, about how he is different.  He still feels strongly, clearly, but now, I believe, he fears.  He'd never had fear before, but…  He fears as strongly as he loves."

            Catherine shook her head slowly.  "But why does he fear me?"

            "You have to understand, Catherine, the world came crashing down on him that night," Remus said earnestly.  "Two of the people he held most dear were gone.  And more than one turned a back on him right then, when he needed them most…"

            Remus finished tying off the bandage, but he kept staring at it.  He didn't want to look up.

            "Remus…"

            Catherine's bandaged hand reached up and gently tucked a bit of hair behind his ear.  Slowly, almost against his will, he turned his eyes towards hers.  She shook her head slightly.

            "You are a fool sometimes," she said with a small smile.  "You never turned your back on Sirius.  You fought against his being sent to Azkaban without a trial.  You made many Ministry enemies on his behalf with that."

            Remus stared at her.  "How do you…?"

            "Uncle," she smiled.  "He holds a rather high opinion of you, Remus; an outsider would swear you were his son.  Well, grandson."

            Remus smiled, looking down at her shoes.  "I would have been honored to be Albus' grandson."

            "And he would have been honored to be your grandfather.  If there's one thing to be said about Uncle—and there's a lot to be said about him really—it's that he's a great judge of character."

****

            Harry wasn't sure why he was headed for Snape's office.  One would think that after his conversation with Sirius it would be to thank him, but it wasn't.  He might owe Snape gratitude but saying it was another matter.  In any case, his feet sped along down to the dungeons, through the corridors, to the door, and he still didn't know what he was going to say or do when he got there.  He didn't pause however and burst into the room.

            Snape was at his desk looking over papers, but Harry's abrupt entrance instantly caught his attention.  Harry marched right over. 

            "Okay, Snape," Harry said, sitting in a chair across from the mildly puzzled Potions teacher.  "Talk."

            Snape's eyebrow arched slightly.  "What?"

            The words poured out of Harry's mouth without any thought behind them.  "Talk.  Tell me about your life, you childhood, your feelings, anything."

            Snape narrowed his eyes.  "What are you up to, Potter?"

            "Would it be better if I began?" Harry asked sincerely.  "Okay, I was born.  You know what happened when I was one.  So, after that I was left on my aunt and uncle's porch and given the closet under the stairs as a bedroom.  You know most of the rest."

            "When you open up, you let the flood out, don't you, Potter?" Snape sneered.

            "You know my life, everybody iknows/i my life," Harry said heavily.  "My life lives on the front page of the Daily Prophet.  But no one knows your life."

            "Have you ever stopped to consider that there might be a very good reason for that, Potter?" the professor said, filling his words with ice.  "It is quite possible that I do not want everyone to know my life.  Some people prefer to keep their secrets."

            Harry stared at him, feeling a little numb.  "Secrets, yes, but your whole life can't be a secret.  You can't hide everything."

            "But—I—Can—Try."

            There was no need for Snape to say, "End of conversation."  The tone of his voice spat it out, and the way his eyes flashed made it quite clear to Harry that it would be advantageous to his health should he leave right then.  But then, Harry wasn't known for doing things that were advantageous to his health.

            "You can't just—"

            Snape's voice poured into Harry's ear like dry ice.  "Yes?"

            Then again, dancing in a snake pit with a pocketful of dead rats was a little more than disadvantageous to one's health.

            Slowly, Harry stood up and walked for the door.  He paused, turning around.  "Professor, I was wondering…the Unforgiveables, the Kill—"

            Snape cut him off with a look and Harry quickly slipped from the room, closing the door behind him.  He stood in the hall for a long time, feeling as though he'd lost the years and centimeters he'd gained at school.  Snape had always done that, had always belittled him…but he'd always fought back.  Now didn't seem the time to stop the tradition.  Harry whirled back around and opened the door, looking in.

            "Potter, I thought I—"

            "Thank you," Harry sputtered out before he could have second thoughts.

            Before the Potions professor could speak or even hide the surprise evident in his face, Harry had closed the door and was walking down the corridor, humming to himself.

****

            The grass crunched under Harry's feet as he walked over the grounds, proof that winter had yet to give into spring.  He, Ron, and Hermione didn't talk much, though Draco was sure to insert complaints about the cold or the conviction that he would die of pneumonia whenever the silence felt too uncomfortable.  They were headed towards Hagrid's hut, but Hagrid wasn't there.  They were going to Care of Magical Creatures, but Hagrid wouldn't be teaching.

            Harry didn't think he could stand to see Professor Grubbly-Plank.  Whenever she'd come before, it had given him cause to worry about Hagrid.  Now he wished that was an option.

            "Hallo there!"

            The words pulled Harry faster from his thoughts than a bucket of cold water could have pulled him from sleep.  He looked up sharply and saw a familiar mop of red hair, a familiar freckled face, and a familiar home-knit sweater.  Charlie Weasley tromped out of the Forbidden Forest, beaming.

            "Well, c'mon then," he called to them.  "There's a fire just inside the forest a ways.  Class is about to start."

            Harry was sure he was gaping, but Charlie didn't seem to notice, looking beyond them and calling to stragglers as they walked by and entered the forest.

            "Gryffindor and Slytherin Creature class, this way!  Come on, come on, we're starting soon!  You don't want to be late!"

            A large fire was roaring not too far into the forest and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco found their classmates huddled around it, hands outstretched towards the warmth.

            "Was that a relative of yours, Ron?" Draco asked pointedly as they took their spots around the fire.

            "Yeah, my older brother Charlie," Ron said, staring at the fire.

            "Mm-hm."

            Ron jumped slightly, turning to find Parvati and Lavender had squeezed in next to him.

            "I knew he was a Weasley," Lavender said.  "I think I remember seeing sometime.  He's rather good-looking, isn't he?"

            "All the Weasleys are rather good-looking," Parvati said, batting an eyelash at Ron.  Ron's ears promptly turned pink.

            Charlie walked up, halting a conversation that ultimately would have lead to a very scarlet Ron.  The older Weasley's eyes shone and his nose was slightly red from the cold.  Despite this, more than one pair of female eyes scanned the man approvingly, their owners shifting so as to be a bit nearer their professor.  He clapped his hands together, looking around expectantly at the lot.

            "Well, allow me to introduce myself; I'm Professor Weasley," he said, his voice practically skipping.  "And to answer a couple of obvious questions, yes, I'll be here for the remainder of the term, yes, I'm Ron's older brother, and no, I do not play favorites."

            A loud snort came from a group of Slytherins but Charlie ignored it.  "Well then, let's get on with it.  This fire in front of us actually serves more than the purpose of warmth, though that certainly is a good enough reason for its being here.  Anyone want to venture what that other purpose might be?"

            "Salamanders?" Neville offered.

            "No, but that's a good guess."

            Harry didn't have any need to guess.  He'd spotted the dark, rounded shape settle in the ashes.  He'd seen something like it before, though this time a wave of queasiness swept over him.

            "Wha's that in its center there?" Seamus said, pointing at the dark shape.

            "Exactly what I was hoping someone would ask!" Charlie said, beaming and pulling on a pair of pink oven mitts.

            If Harry hadn't recognized the mitts as Mrs. Weasley's, he probably would have guessed it by the sudden reddening of Ron's ears.  Charlie reached down into the fire and picked up the egg, quickly placing it on a pile of cloth Harry hadn't noticed before.

            "Gather 'round, gather 'round," Charlie said, ushering the class towards him.  "Mind the fire; don't want anyone singed.  Well then, you are all about to witness something very few are privileged to see:  a dragon hatching."

            A murmur went through the group like a shot.  Dean gave a low whistle.

            "I thought that having dragons was illegal," he said, sounding rather pleased with their criminal professor.

            "Not for me, no," Charlie smiled.  "I've spent a number of years in Romania studying dragons; enough that I was permitted to make this presentation."

            Another murmur went through the group, but this was much less urgent.  A few eye-owners shifted even closer to Charlie.  Pansy Parkinson looked torn between her abhorrence of anything Weasley and the attractiveness of a young, rebellious, dragon-taming professor.

            "I've had this egg in my care for a while now; its mother was killed for raiding numerous Muggle villages, quite unusual for its breed, actually.  They are normally very docile and stay away from humans.  Now, can anyone tell me what type of dragon this is?"

            "A Welsh Green," Dean Thomas spoke up, pointing to the egg.  "If it's green on brown, a Welsh Green you've found."

            Charlie laughed.  "I see you've read Not Just a Bunch of Giant, Fire-Breathing Lizards by Saria Stratton."

            "It had a bunch of reference pictures for something I was working on," Dean explained sheepishly.

            "It moved!" Pansy Parkinson suddenly shrieked, jumping into the Slytherin boy behind her.

            "Ah, excellent," Charlie smiled.  "As I'm sure many of you have noticed because of the cracks in the egg, it's well into the process of hatching.  You're lucky; the last two classes didn't get to see anything more.  We, however, should see the actual emersion anytime now."

            Only the crackling fire broke the silence that fell upon the class.  All eyes strained to catch any movement from the egg.  Well, almost all eyes.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione hung back from the crowd.  It wasn't that they didn't want to support Charlie's first class—though he seemed to need very little—but they'd seen a hatching before.  That didn't make this time dull, by any means.  In fact, boredom was the furthest thing from their minds.

            A surprised cry indicated that they dragon had finally decided to emerge…black and limp like a soggy umbrella.  Harry glanced at the center of the group; no, this one was a brilliant green.  Harry's stomach sank to his feet as he looked away.

            Everyone else talked excitedly about the class (and the professor) when it was over.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed back, though, drawing dark looks from a few of their classmates who'd hoped to catch the professor alone.  Draco paused a moment, but continued to the castle with the rest of the class.

            "Need any help, Charlie?" Harry asked, watching the man gently settle the baby dragon in a glass case by the fire.

            "Oh, no.  Just settling the Green in for the next class," Charlie said, beaming.

            "Charlie," Hermione said, painting on a smile, "why didn't you tell us?  Not that I mind the pleasant surprise…"

            Charlie's smile faded.  "But…I did.  Well, I wrote Ron, and I always reckon that if I tell one of you it's as good as telling all three.  Did it not arrive?"

            "N-no, I got the owl, I remember now," Ron muttered, studying the snow.

            Hermione's eyes clouded over, but Harry just looked at Ron with mild surprise.  Charlie looked at each of them, his ears turning pinker than the cold had made them.

            "Er… well, I'd better check on the Green," he said, quickly heading over to the fire.

            Hermione turned on her heel and started marching toward the castle, Ron and Harry not too far behind.  They were only halfway there, though, when she spun back around, her face livid.

            "I can't believe you didn't tell us!" she yelled as Ron stumbled to a halt.

            "I…I forgot."

            "And now you're lying!"

            Ron hunched his shoulders, glaring at the snow.  "Okay, so I just didn't tell you.  I didn't think it'd matter."

            "Didn't…?!  Not matter?!  Well, you're right about one thing, Ron: you didn't think!" Hermione cried, her voice echoing over the snow.  "You never think!  Just swing along through life, not caring about consequences or others' feelings!  You're so insensitive!"

            Past the agitated tossing of Hermione's head, Harry could see Ron seeming to shrink in upon himself, his head bowing low and back slowly following.  Hermione kept right on yelling, and for once Ron didn't yell back.

            "Hermione…" Harry said quietly.  She didn't hear him.

            "I can't believe you kept this from us!  It was a horrible secret!  Friends are supposed to talk to each other, Ron, if you didn't know that!  I can't believe how selfish you are, how you always are!  Try taking a walk in someone else's shoes for once, Ron, because—"

            "FINE!"

            In one moment, Ron went from shrinking into himself to towering over them, his eyes flashing and fists clenched.  Hermione stepped back into Harry, her eyes wide.

            "You know, you're right, Hermione, like always!" Ron yelled.  "I'm selfish and stubborn and just plain rotten sometimes!  I'm not perfect, Hermione, and I never will be, no matter how many times you point that out!  I will make mistakes because I really don't know how I should act in every situation!  But neither do you!"

            He spun toward the castle, nearly slipping on the snow but storming off once he caught his footing.

            "Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered, staring after Ron, "what did I say?"

            Harry held back a sigh.  "A number of things you regret, but they'll be forgiven and forgotten."

            Hermione shook her head, covering her face with her hands.  "I'm so horrible.  It's just…nothing's felt right.  I feel so out of control.  How could I have said those things?"

            Putting an arm around her, he said, "Well…you aren't perfect."

            She gave a laugh-sob, burying her head into Harry's shoulder.

****

            "Harry, I'd like to talk with you after class," Sirius said as the class was signaled to leave.

            Harry nodded, giving Hermione an apologetic glance (Ron seemed to refuse to acknowledge anyone else existed, even Parvati) and waiting for everyone to file out the door.  When they had, Sirius motioned Harry to follow him and they headed down the corridors.

            "Figured I'd take you to the tower; give us a chance to talk," Sirius said as an explanation.

            "Oh.  Okay."

            "Um…so how are you doing, Harry?  How's school?"

            "Well, okay, I guess."

            "How was Charlie's first class?" Sirius asked, a slight lilt to his voice.  "He was a bit excited about it."

            "It went quite well," Harry answered, trying not to think about it much.

            "Good…good…"

            They walked in silence for a while.

            "So, what else are you doing?" Sirius said, determined to say something.  "How's Quidditch?"

            "We have our first practice for a long time tonight.  It was a bit cold for playing."

            "Ah, yeah.  Very cold.  It's been that way for a while.  But it seems to be warming up now.  Hopefully it will stay that way till spring.

            Harry wasn't sure how to answer, so he just nodded.  The walked in silence until they reached the Fat Lady, and then they stood in silence.

            "So, how about you?" Harry asked.  "How are you doing?"

            "Walking, breathing, living.  It's good enough for me.  Still a bit tender, though," Sirius smiled, patting his chest.  "On the bright side, I'll have a wicked scar to show for it." 

            "On the bright side," Harry smiled back.

            They were silent for a while, Harry waiting for what Sirius had really wanted to talk about.

            "Is that all you wanted to talk about?" he prompted.

            "Er…um…yeah," Sirius said slowly.

            Harry waited a few more seconds then said, "I'd better be going then; I've practice in—"

            "No," Sirius said resolutely.  "No, that wasn't all I wanted to talk about."

            Harry nodded, waiting.

            "Well, you see…er.  Harry…" Sirius said, rubbing the back of his neck.  "About your visit the other day, when I was in the hospital wing…  The pain killers had gotten to my head, and I think I acted pretty odd.  I might have said…  Well, just forget it happened, okay?"

            Harry smiled, and lied, "Already forgotten."

            Relief washed over Sirius' face.  "Good.  I have a tendency of saying stupid things when my brain's not there.  I was completely sloshed when you were born."  Sirius gave a short laugh.  "I don't think Lily ever forgave me for that."

            Harry grinned and then turned to the Portrait.  "Good night, Sirius."

            "Harry, wait."

            Turning back to his godfather, Harry suddenly found himself in an embrace.  He felt a bit surprised, but hugged Sirius before he pulled back.

            "I love you, Harry," Sirius said firmly.  "I want you to know that.  I know it might sound weird but…  Well, damn it, I saw you come out the birth canal, a little 'I love you' shouldn't seem so strange."

            Harry pulled a face.  "Rather more than I wanted to know, Sirius."

            Sirius laughed.  "Well, you should know.  You should know what your birth was like, what your life was like.  It's yours, after all."

            Harry shook his head, almost in a laugh.  "You don't need to do this, Sirius.  I know you feel the need to play the father, but really, I'm okay on my own."

            "Harry, I've never done anything unless I wanted to," Sirius said.  "And I want you to be able to talk to me, ask me questions, anything.  I'm here for you, I really am, and not because I feel like I have to be.  I want to."

            For some reason, Harry's voice wouldn't work.  So he just nodded, hoping that would somehow say everything he couldn't.

            "Well," Sirius said shortly, "I won't keep you waiting.  Good night, Har—"

            Harry cut him off with an embrace.  Sirius' eyes widened but then he hugged his godson back.

            "I love you, Sirius," Harry said.

            Suddenly a loud honking noise caused them to separate and look at the wall in front of them.

            The Fat Lady dabbed her eyes with her recently-used handkerchief.  "That was the sweetest thing I've ever seen," she sniffled.

****

            When Harry entered his dorm, there was a tiny owl perched on the foot of his bed.  The only other owl Harry had ever seen of its size was Pig, so at first he was certain it must be stuffed.  Then it turned and blinked at him, holding out a leg.  There was a small bit of parchment tied there.  As soon as Harry took it off, the owl flew out the door without a sound.  Perplexed, Harry opened the note.

                        Lessons resume.  Get detention by Wednesday.

            "Snape," Harry muttered.  So he would learn the Killing Curse after all.

****

A/N:  *blushes*  I don't even want to know how long it's been.  I'm so sorry; time slips away so fast here.

            Anyone excited already for the PoA movie?  *grins*  "Double, double, toil and trouble, something wicked this way comes!"  Yes, well, onto the thank-yous!!!

**Shrimpo****/Jewels:  ^_^**

**Cloud:**  ^_^  Thanks.  And yeah, I just decided in writing to use first names more often. :P

**Liliana-Suger****:  *blush*  Wow, thanks.  And yes, Sirius is staying alive for now.**

**Slycat-blaze1:**  Thank you.

**Karceoles****:  Okay, I'll admit this:  I basically killed Hagrid to save myself from having to write him in.  *blush*  But I'm working with it now, so anything could come from it.  And I promise I don't kill off everybody.  ^_^  Thank you.**

**Jona****:  With the last chapter. ^_~  All I'll say is Sirius is going to stay alive for the moment.  Thank you for the review, Jo.**

**Gemstone121:**  Thanks!

**Colibi****:  Thank you.**

**Louise Luvgood:**  Ooh, sugar quills. ^_^  Christmas break is coming up soon, so hopefully I'll be able to read your stuff then.  Thank you for the review!

**Alannah****:  Thank you. ^_^**

**Tanya:**  Yeah, I know Archimedes was learned, but I don't really recall his story.  Yours seems right. ^_^  And you are too clever for your own good, so I shan't say anything. ^_^  Thank you!

**Alexa****:  Thank you.**

**Call-me-00Kat:**  Okay, yes, I know, I'm horrid, but it's here!  Thank you for making me hurry along and get it up. ^_^

**FireAngel3:**  Thank you.  And no, sorry, Azar isn't coming back.  ^_^

**AJ-Wolf-AJ****:  *lol*  Thank you.  **

**Illusoire****:  Thank you for the big reminder that I'd been horrid about updating.  I needed it. ^_^**

**Aalikane****:  Wow, was it really that long of a time?  Sorry, but hey, it's here.  Thank you for reviewing.**

**HarryPotter21:**  Thank you. ^_^

            A special thanks to my beta and everyone else who kept reminding me this chapter wasn't up.

            Must go now.

            Be excellent to each other.

            -Ady


	28. Detention

Chapter 28: Detention

Harry wasn't looking for Charlie. He had been looking for Sirius, hoping to wheedle some school stories from him for ideas on getting detention. Charlie was the one who answered the staffroom door, however.

"Oh, hey, Harry," he said, with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Hey Char—er, Profe… Er, hello," Harry finished dumbly. "I was looking for Sirius."

"Not here. You check his office?"

"Yes, he wasn't there either."

"You could wait here if you like," Charlie offered. "I just made some tea and could use some company."

"Oh, sure."

Harry hadn't been in the staffroom since his third year, but it hadn't really changed. In fact, he could have sworn the cobwebs looked familiar. Charlie passed him a cup, filling it and refilling his own.

"Did you ever get in trouble when you were at Hogwarts?" Harry said bluntly. "I mean, really bad. A couple weeks of detention's worth."

Charlie looked at him oddly. " 'Fraid you're asking the wrong Weasley. Though I did once get in a rough spot when I managed to burn away half of Win Minnow's robes during a Potions lesson. She didn't suffer any burns herself, but I think that's part of the reason why they wouldn't believe it was an accident." He gave Harry a hint of a grin.

"How exactly did you do it?" Harry asked quickly.

Charlie burst out laughing. "If you're trying to get a peep up someone's skirt, Harry, that's not the way to do it, especially if you like the girl. Trust me. Win didn't say a word to me the rest of the year."

Harry flushed bright red. "I didn't mean…Well, I…"

He trailed off. The very fact that Charlie thought he was thinking about girls…. In any case, he couldn't tell Charlie the real reason he wanted to know how to get in trouble. Not many students went around seeking detention.

"Er…uh, are you… Are you keeping the Welsh Green?" Harry asked, desperate for a new subject.

"No," said Charlie with another laugh. "I don't have a death wish just yet. I sent it to the colony they have in Wales; they've got wizards trained just for the purpose of reintroducing orphaned young."

"Yes… Yes, that would make sense. …Hagrid always wanted a dragon. Even had one for a while. Did you know that?"

Charlie shook his head slowly. Harry stared into his tea.

"Harry," Charlie said gently, "I know Ron can be a prat. I'd be the first to admit it. Well, no, that would be Fred and George, but my point is, his heart's always in the right place. He didn't mean to keep things a secret from you and Hermione; he just didn't know what to do."

"I understand. I really do," Harry said, looking up. "None of us have been going through the happiest of times."

"No. No, you haven't." It was Charlie's turn to stare into his teacup. "Weasleys need purpose, you know. We always have. It's our tragic flaw; well, that and a stubborn streak. And maybe a bit of a temper. But without feeling needed, a Weasley melts away."

Harry looked at him, a little unsure of what to say, but Charlie seemed to come out of his thoughts, giving Harry a smile.

"Sorry I'm being so odd and vague. I'm just worried about Ron. I think he feels he's lost what makes him needed. A Weasley who sees his purpose crumbling around him will go to drastic measures." Charlie sighed, shaking his head. "That's part of why I took this job. All I really know is dragons, but Albus needed a professor and I needed to be there for my brother."

"But what has he lost?"

"I don't know myself. Maybe he never even had it yet. Ron's always been different, in a way. My dad, for instance, has found his purpose in his family and Muggles; he doesn't want more. Mum has always been dedicated to making everyone feel welcome and happy, family or not. Bill gets pathetic pay but has adventures and excitement to make his day worth it, and you know Fred and George will do anything to make people laugh, though they don't mind a bit of money along the way. But Ron's always felt the need to be important. Now, I'm not blaming you, Harry, but I think he tries too hard to compare himself to you. He wants the fame and fortune; he wants the respect. He's a lot like Percy, really. Don't tell him I said that," Charlie added quickly. "I found it hard enough following in Bill's wake; I can't imagine how it must feel to be 'just another Weasley brother.' He wants so much to be important."

"But he is," Harry said. "To me, to Hermione. To you and your parents, Fred, George, Bill. Maybe even to Draco."

Charlie laughed. "Have you ever tried telling him that? He seems to think everyone just says things because they pity him. Witch Weekly could declare him Most Important Wizard of the Year and he would say they did 'cause he was looking a little down. Ron only thinks he's important when…well, when he thinks he is. No one can get through that thick skull of his. I told you, stubbornness runs in the family."

Harry smiled slightly, shaking his head.

"I was hoping," Charlie barreled on, "that you might know something. Ron never tells us much. Has anything important happened; did he lose anything?"

Harry thought of Azar. He thought of Hagrid, and James, and Ginny and Percy. He thought about a broken necklace tucked safely away in a sock in his trunk. Then he shook his head.

"No," he said quietly. "Nothing comes to mind."

Harry left Charlie with a swift good-bye, checking by Sirius' office again. Finding it empty, he headed back to Gryffindor tower. He had "giblets" halfway out of his mouth when someone floated right through the middle of the Fat Lady. She and Harry gave a jump.

"Percy!" Harry cried.

"Damn!" Percy said back, suddenly disappearing.

He was back before Harry had a chance to gape. "Sorry, Harry; reflex. I normally keep invisible, but I was talking with Ron and I guess I forgot to go back into stealth mode."

He gave a hearty laugh that normally would have set Harry on-guard (Percy only made bad jokes when particularly pompous or nervous and he wasn't looking particularly full of himself today )had Harry not been shocked at his very presence.

"But you're supposed to be gone! You were Azar's guide!" Harry said quickly.

Percy blinked. "Aza…oh, yes, Ron told me. I offer my condolences, Harry. If I'd known sooner—"

"But you were supposed to take her!" Harry interrupted. "She… Weren't you?"

Percy looked shocked. "The girl didn't even know me; why would I be her guide? Really, it's a wonder you and Ron are even able to breathe on your own. Well, I must be going. Good luck on your N.E.W.T.s."

And with that, Percy was gone.

"You do have some of the oddest conversations," the Fat Lady said.

"Giblets."

Harry hurried to the dormitory, hoping Ron would be there. He had guessed right. Ron sat on his bed, staring at the floor.

"What did he say?" Harry said urgently.

Ron jumped. "Huh?"

"What did Percy say? Did he tell you anything?"

Dumbly, Ron shook his head. "Nothing new, at least.

Harry sank onto his bed. "He wasn't Azar's guide, Ron."

"I know," Ron said hoarsely. "We're not done yet. We're going to lose someone else."

Harry was instantly back on his feet. "No! Percy said before it wasn't a sure thing; he doesn't have to take anyone! We'll be careful, that's all."

Ron gave a weak laugh. "Yeah, and why don't we try not blinking while we're at it?"

Shaking his head, Harry almost laughed. "We'll try at least. Just because Percy's here doesn't mean anything will happen."

"No," Ron agreed. "No. It doesn't mean anything."

They were silent for a moment. Harry couldn't help wondering, watching Ron study the floor, what was missing. He was his friend; he should know these things.

"Ron," he said. "Have you… Well, is there any… Are you…"

Ron cocked his head to the side, looking perplexed. "Am I what?"

"Are you up for some flying before Quidditch practice?"

"Sure," Ron said, hopping up.

Harry knew it was a spineless move, but he couldn't really help it. He and Ron didn't talk about those things, not if they could avoid it, and besides, what was he thinking? Ron hadn't lost anything; Charlie was probably just trying to get information for Mrs. Weasley anyway. It didn't really matter.

"Of course I knew he wasn't her guide," Hermione said at breakfast the next morning. "They didn't even know each other. Do you mean to tell me that you thought—"

"You can be really irritating sometimes, did you know?" Ron said, slouching over his bacon.

Hermione went silent. The clinking of forks on plates was the only sound exchanged between them for a while; then Hermione stood up, gathering her things.

"I'm going to class early; I wanted to talk with Connerly about Quantitative Effort spells," she explained. "Bye."

"Bye," Harry said.

As she left, he glanced at Ron. He'd moved on to studying his potatoes now.

"I'm going to go, too," Harry said. "You ready to set off?"

"Not yet; I want to finish this," Ron said, shuffling a kipper. "Go on, though, I'll see you in class."

"Right. See you."

He hated it when Ron and Hermione were fighting. Of course, that was most of the time, but at least they'd fought a bit more nicely when they were dating. He slowed in his walk, pausing in the door and glancing back at Ron. Maybe he should—

Harry froze. Snape had just gotten up from the staff table and was now headed for him and the door. He scowled. It was already Wed-sodding-nesday and he hadn't managed to get detention. Of course he hadn't really tried. After all, his last attempt had been deemed rather pathetic. Well, Snape was headed this way, he thought, as he walked through the double doors, maybe—

Harry was jogged off balance just then by a Slytherin who grunted in recognition as he slopped on. Harry's scowl deepened but then suddenly disappeared completely. Well, that certainly would be a good way to get detention… particularly since Snape was Head of Slytherin House. And what teacher happened to be not-too-far away but Snape? Before he could stop himself, Harry stomped forward and shoved the Slytherin in the back.

"Watch it!" he snarled.

The Slytherin, who Harry now recognized as Theodore Nott, spun around. "What did you say?"

Strange how it wasn't until then that Harry realized the boy was a good forty-five centimeters and kilos larger than he was. Maybe he should just…

"I said watch it!" Harry growled again, setting his feet firm.

"Well, if you hadn't been crowding the door as if you owned it, I might have been able to get by without getting your highness dirty," Nott growled back, cracking his knuckles.

"It's not my fault you're so porky you need both doorways to get through!"

Nott's eyes were flashing. "You might just want to watch your mouth, Potter."

"It's my nose I'm more worried about; after your stench, I doubt I'll be able to smell anything for weeks."

Harry'd once seen a nature documentary about silver-backed gorillas. At one point, the head male slowly advanced on a rebel young male, right before tearing him apart. At that moment, Harry knew exactly how that young male must have felt.

He tried to calm himself, ready to start swinging. After all, Snape would be right there; he'd stop things soon. Harry's stomach suddenly turned to ice. He was counting on Snape to step in and stop him from getting himself killed. He suddenly felt as though he might as well have strapped himself in an electrical chair and asked Dudley Dursley to guard the switch.

"You might want to think about that, Nott."

Harry spun around and Nott stopped his slow, murderous advance. Draco Malfoy stood there, arms folded and sneer set firmly in place.

"Arguing with Potter is my job," he drawled. "I don't take kindly to competition."

"And I don't take kindly to no-good, busy-body, traitorous pricks, so sod off," Nott ordered.

Draco clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Afraid I can't do that; you pick a fight with Potter, you pick a fight with me. And unlike Potter, I don't—" in a blur of movement, Draco had his wand out and pointed right between Nott's eyes. "—play fair."

Harry suddenly shoved at Draco's hand, staring at him pointedly. "Go away, Malfoy. This is my fight, not yours."

Surprise flitted across Draco's face, but the confident smirk soon returned. "Sorry, Harry; there you are wrong."

"No one asked you to step in!" Harry yelled. This was all going extremely wrong. If Draco attacked Nott when Snape finally came, he'd be the one with detention instead of Harry.

"Like I care what other people want," Draco said, a definite anger behind his stare. "I will help you whether you like it or not."

Harry glanced at the Great Hall doors and saw the figure of Snape step into the frames. He was not letting this chance go. Before Draco could stop him, Harry snatched his friend's wand up and hurled it up the stairs. Nott took that moment to pounce but Harry was one step ahead, ramming his shoulder into the boy's gut. They slammed to the floor and before Harry could even ball up a fist, he felt a very large hand grip his throat. He gagged, but began swinging; as Nott still held him at arm's-length, he only hit the arm that was strangling him, and not very often at that.

"Potter!" Snape yelled. "What are you doing?"

'Choking, if you don't mind!' Harry thought angrily; he would have said it aloud, but he only seemed capable of making indistinct gargling noises.

Nott's grip released and Harry fell to the floor, panting. He didn't get much of a chance to catch his breath, however, before Snape yanked him to his feet by the scruff of his robes.

"Explain," Snape hissed.

"Potter attacked me unprovoked!" Nott wheezed, clutching his stomach.

"Liar!" Draco cried.

"Are you saying Nott threw the first punch, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked sharply.

"No, but I'm sure he said something to provoke Harry," Draco said, looking to his friend for backup.

"No," Harry muttered, looking at the floor. "Nott bumped me walking through the door, so I shoved him. It kind of escalated from there."

Draco didn't even try to keep his composure; his mouth hung open, and his brows contracted low over his eyes.

"Was that what happened?" Snape snapped, looking at Nott.

Nott nodded sharply.

"Potter, come with me," Snape said, releasing him and gliding toward the dungeon steps.

Harry followed, sure not to make eye contact with Draco, who stared until he was out of sight.

Snape didn't say a word as they swept through the corridors, leaving Harry a little worried. Surely Snape knew it had been a ruse, that he was just trying to get detention for lessons? Granted it had been against his own House, but Snape wouldn't hold that much of a vendetta. Would he?

Snape closed the door to his office. "Next time, Potter, you might want to find a happy medium between clumsiness and suicide."

"I was running out of time and none too loaded with ideas," Harry snapped, somewhat relieved.

"For one who has certainly made a career of getting into trouble, you seem to be severely lacking in forethought."

"Wouldn't having a career in getting into trouble mean you have a lack of forethought?" Harry knew he was insulting himself, but it was a small price to pay to prove Snape wrong.

"Not necessarily," Snape said, reaching into his desk and taking out the jar of slugs. "But apparently I overestimated you."

Harry realized his fists were clenched and quickly relaxed them. He figured his urge to hit Snape was probably due to excess adrenaline over the fight. But why had Snape forced him to admit Nott hadn't provoked him? It wasn't like he really needed an excuse to give Harry detention, and now Draco thought he was acting strange, and whatever Draco knew Hermione would soon know and…. Harry had to relax his fists again.

"Potter? Are you even listening?"

Harry blinked. "Er…well, no."

Snape raised an eyebrow slightly. "Were you under the impression that you were to have a regular detention? That can be arranged."

"No," Harry said quickly. "No, Professor, I just have a lot on my mind."

"Well, I suggest you get rid of that 'lot.' If you are to learn the Killing Curse, there can be nothing else you want more," Snape said sharply. "It's not easy, Potter. Harder than the Cruciatus Curse, by far. And this time you won't be able to practice on me."

Harry nodded, trying not to look frightened, as Snape withdrew a slug and put it on his desk. When it had been time to learn the Cruciatus Curse, Harry had wanted to go straight to the Killing Curse. Now he wished he could forget about it completely.

"There will be no need to practice on anything other than the slugs," Snape said thickly, staring fixedly at the creature oozing along his desk. "Slug, mouse, rabbit…. Once you know the curse, it doesn't matter. They all die."

"Why?" Harry asked quietly.

Snape glared at him. "I am no expert on the subject, Potter. But perhaps because death is the only thing all creatures have in common."

"And life," Harry said without thinking. He surprised even himself.

"There is no life without death, Potter," Snape said tersely.

Harry met his stare. "There also isn't death without life."

Snape was silent a moment. "This isn't a Philosophy of Magic class, Potter. Now watch carefully, I'm only going to do this once."

Snape took out his wand, pointing it toward the slug. Then, with a sudden jabbing movement, he cried, "Avada Kedavra!"

There was a flash of green light, a rattling wind, and the slug was motionless. Harry stared at it, his throat constricting.

"I can't do this."

Snape swept the slug into a bin. "You have three weeks to prove otherwise. Dismissed."

Harry hadn't even properly gotten out of the portrait hole before his two best friends pounced on him.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

"Hallo to you, too, Ron."

Ron looked like he was about to knock some sense into Harry quite literally. "If you wanted to get yourself killed, there are less painful ways of doing it; jumping off the Astronomy Tower onto a floor of daggers, for one! Or how 'bout taking a stroll in the Forbidden Forest?!"

"I didn't want to get myself killed."

"Picking a fight with Nott isn't the best way to stay alive, you know!"

"That's not like you, Harry," Hermione said, somewhere between concerned and calculating. "Draco says Nott only bumped you."

Harry shrugged. "I guess I was on edge. If it makes you feel better, I can promise I won't do it again."

"Too right you won't," Ron snorted. "I'll dog your steps till Doom's Day if you take on any more tro—"

"I got three weeks detention," Harry said as gloomily as possible. It wasn't that hard to do.

Ron's jaw dropped open and Hermione's eyes grew wide.

"What?" Ron croaked.

"Snape gave me three weeks. Every night, five till whatever hour he sees fit."

"But…Quidditch!" Ron cried.

"Homework!" Hermione imitated.

"Quidditch!!!" Ron said again.

Hermione took a deep breath, glared at Ron, and then turned to Harry. "He can't give you three weeks detention, Harry. It's wrong."

"There's nothing I can do about it," Harry shrugged.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Why aren't you fighting it? This isn't like you."

"She's got a point, mate," Ron muttered grudgingly, shooting Hermione a disgruntled look.

Visibly tensing, Hermione ignored him. "Something's wrong. Why don't you tell us?"

"Nothing's wrong," Harry said, trying to laugh but only succeeding in a slight wheeze.

"You're lying to us," Hermione said, her voice going more high-pitched than usual.

"Why would I lie?" Harry said, still trying to sound offhand.

"Because everything's wrong." Hermione sounded near tears. "You don't pay attention in class, your thoughts are so scattered when we try to talk, which is rare, you—"

"You don't seem to care about Quidditch anymore," Ron interjected.

"How can you think of that stupid game at a time like this?!" Hermione snapped, wheeling on Ron.

"For God's sake, Hermione, you're the only one in the world that thinks it's a stupid game!" Ron roared back. "Now who's wrong, you or the entire wizarding world?!"

Hermione flushed. "Oh, stop being so temperamental over your precious game!"

"Me?!" Ron cried. "You're just as bad, if not worse!"

"I am not temperamental!"

"Then what do you call this?!"

"Well, I'm not temperamental with anyone but you!"

"Then why are you even friends with me?!"

"Because you hit a troll," Harry said hastily.

"What?!"

Ron and Hermione turned as though Harry had suddenly popped up out of thin air and said this. Their eyes were still flashing.

"Er…. Well, you levitated a troll's club and…knocked it out," Harry said warily. "We were friends after that, remember?"

There was silence a moment, then Ron turned to Hermione again. "See? I saved your life; you could be a bit nicer, don't you think!"

"Oh, Harry did as much saving as you!" Hermione shot back. "Besides, I've saved you loads of times!"

Harry watched helplessly as his attempt to stem the shouting failed spectacularly.

"You save me? Ha! I could have gotten along quite well without any of your help!"

"Just as I could have beaten the troll!"

"Another laugh! You were cowering when we found you; absolutely petrified!"

"Well, you wouldn't even be here if it weren't for me helping you with your schoolwork! You would have been kicked out long ago, or at the very least you wouldn't be Head Boy, and Harry would have gotten the badge like he was supposed to!"

The instant the words were out of her mouth, Hermione clapped her hand over it. Ron went rigid, his eyebrows contracting low.

"Ron, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"Think," he growled. "You don't think around me, you get angry around me, I bring out every bad aspect of you, don't I?"

"No, Ron, of course—"

Ron sprang to his feet and looked ready to yell again but took a deep breath instead. "We can't even talk anymore. It doesn't work this way; friends have to be able to talk. I don't think we can even be friends."

Hermione was gaping, but Ron just walked away, up the staircase.

'Great,' Harry thought.

"Hermione, I'm sure—"

Hermione sprang up, marching to the staircase up to the boys' dormitory. "Have you ever realized what an enormous prat you are?!" she yelled up after Ron. "Fine then, walk away from it, you insensitive, irrational, illogical idiot!"

"Her…Hermione!" Harry said, shocked.

"Can't talk? Can't talk?!" she continued yelling, as though Harry hadn't said a thing. "I'll show you 'can't talk'!!!"

"Would you? 'Cause some of us are trying to SLEEP!" A voice was descending the stairs. "I'll start docking points if you don't shut the hell—oh, Hermione."

Colin Creevey looked extremely embarrassed, but Hermione didn't even seem to notice him, marching off to her own dorm with the slam of a door. Colin stared after her with wide eyes, then turned to Harry who was equally shocked.

"All right, Harry?"

"Hello, Colin," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Will, Potter. You can't—"

"Damn it, I'm trying, so lay off!" Harry snarled, hurling his wand across the office. It had been the third night in a row of an overly long lesson and Harry was nowhere nearer knowing the Killing Curse than he had been when he started. To make matters worse, today was Ron's birthday, and Harry hadn't seen him all day. He was sure his friend was sulking somewhere for no good reason. It was all rather trying to his patience.

Snape looked completely unaffected. "Fine, Potter. Dismissed."

Inwardly, Harry hit himself over the head. "No, I'm fine. It's just been a rough week. I want to keep trying."

Snape's voice was ice. "I wasn't making a suggestion, Potter."

Harry wasn't in the mood for this. "Neither was I. I'm going to stay and practice, and you're going to stay and teach, whether you like it or not."

Snape pulled out his wand, pointing it at Harry. "Oh?"

Harry set his feet firmly on the ground, clenching his fists. He wasn't going to let Snape push him around.

"Imperio!"

The corners of Harry's vision blurred and he felt slightly light-headed, but Snape's face was as clear as ever. Harry glared at him.

'Leave,' Snape's voice commanded in his head.

'You'll have to do better than that.'

Even Harry was surprised by the clarity of his response.

'Go to the door,' Snape said after a moment.

'I told you, I'm not leaving.'

Harry clenched his fists and jaw, concentrating on Snape's still clear face.

'A step. Just take a step forward.'

Harry felt his leg quiver but he firmly planted it. 'I'm not leaving.'

'One step, that's all.'

"I'm not leaving!"

The fog and light-headedness disappeared, and Harry found himself still staring angrily at Snape.

"Accio."

Harry's wand flew from its corner and into Snape's outstretched hand. He walked forward, handing it back to Harry.

"Now put that will to good use," he said coolly.

Harry let out his breath slowly. Had Snape planned that?

The potions professor glared. "Potter."

Quickly turning to the slug, Harry concentrated on how he had felt staring at Snape's face, the angry desire to beat him.

"Will it dead."

It wasn't a slug anymore. It was Draco eyeing him suspiciously but refusing to speak to him; it was the nasty looks Ron and Hermione shot at each other in class; it was the Quidditch practices he couldn't bring himself to care about.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A vacuum suddenly grabbed hold of Harry's innards, ripping them from their proper place, pulling them through his arm, his fingers, his wand. They spilled out in a blinding green light and a roar of wind that erased all other sound. It happened in an instant, lasted just as long, light and wind fading into nothing, and Harry found himself staring at a motionless slug.

"Success," Snape said, barely moving his lips.

Harry didn't hear him. He just kept staring at the slug, numb to his fingers and toes. It was as though his insides had slid away with the spell, as though he'd been sucked hollow. Lost, empty, nothing. For all he felt, he might as well have been pointing the wand at himself. Without even realizing it, his grip tightened on his wand until his knuckles shook, white and hard. He felt hot water swimming behind his eyes, and he didn't even care enough to will it away. All he saw, all he knew, was that motionless creature in front of him.

Snape was silent. He walked away from Harry, staring at a nonexistent window in the wall. His arms were crossed, and slowly his grip on his upper arms grew tighter.

His back still turned to Harry, Snape said, "What do you want to know, Potter?"

It was a while before Harry even registered that he had said anything. "What?"

"You asked about my life," Snape said, still not turning around. "Thirty-eight years is a long time, too long to sum up. What do you want to know?"

Harry stared at the back of his professor's head in amazement. He wasn't avoiding the questions any more, but welcoming them. But what to ask? What did he want to know?

"Why did you stop?" Harry shook his head, realizing the question made no sense. "I mean, why did you suddenly turn against Voldemort?"

Snape looked over his shoulder at Harry, arching an eyebrow slightly. "That is an odd question to ask."

Harry felt heat coming to his face and shrugged, avoiding eye contact but trying to pretend he wasn't. "I've just always wondered. I didn't—"

"Most people prefer to ask why I joined," Snape said, cutting him short. "Or rather, most of those willing to ask at all. Only one other asked why I betrayed the Dark Lord…"

Harry wanted to ask who the other person had been, but felt he might be pushing his luck. He just waited in silence as Snape turned away, gazing at a spot of wall where a window might have been had they been above ground. For a while, Harry considered leaving it just as that. But he had gone this far…

"Why did you stop?" he asked again, more quietly this time.

The silence reigned again for a while, and Harry feared he might have said the question so quietly that Snape hadn't heard him. Finally, Snape moved, withdrawing a silver chain from his neck. Hanging on it were two rings. One was a simple silver band; the other was its twin, but for an emerald stone. He handed the necklace gently to Harry.

"We were both Slytherins, and very proud to be," he said with something that Harry thought might be a smile. "Besides, the emerald was her birthstone. It seemed more fitting that way."

"You…you were married," Harry spoke in shock.

Snape gave a derisive laugh. "Yes, Potter, a slimy git like myself married, however impossible it may seem."

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly, concentrating on the rings. There had once been intricate carvings along the bands, but they were so worn Harry couldn't make them out. The more he looked at them, the more questions poured into his head. "Is this real?" he asked suddenly. The emerald was, after all, a very large stone.

Snape nodded slowly.

"But…how? You were poor," Harry asked quietly.

"If only your memory worked so well in class," the Potions master said, turning away slightly.

Harry waited a while, but Snape didn't go on. "You didn't answer my question."

Snape turned back around, and any remnant of happiness was wiped from his face. "Lord Voldemort provides," he replied, his dark eyes glinting coldly. "She was two years younger and I never noticed her at Hogwarts. We just happened to meet in Diagon Alley the summer after she graduated… We married seven months later."

Harry let this sink in. "So what happened?"

Snape seemed to drop even deeper into his gloom. "Ethie—Ethelindi—was a muggleborn. I didn't know; for three months I didn't know. Then I met her parents, and it was too late. I was willing to believe she was different; I was willing to believe we couldn't be touched. But marrying me only made it more dangerous for her; she had a squib sister-in-law."

"Juni," Harry murmured without thinking.

Snape gave him a sharp look. "Yes. Ethie was a great supporter of the non-magical world, and Juniata gave her another reason to fight. She even united my parents in the crusade; she was a miracle-worker… I tried to stop them, to make them be quiet and let the world run its course. They laughed at me for my worrying; they didn't know—unfortunately, Voldemort had good informers. He'd also gotten into the habit of killing off Death Eater families to test their loyalty." Snape's eyes were distant, as though not even seeing the room anymore. "We were called Christmas Eve; I was sent to spy on a possible secret Ministry meeting. There was no such meeting. When I returned to report, Voldemort questioned me on the strength of my loyalty. I assured him that it could never be stronger. Then I went home, to my parents' home, where Ethie and I had been visiting. The Dark Mark glowed green over their house…"

Snape went silent. His face held no emotion, but seemed a little more strained than was natural. Harry had seen such a look on Sirius' face, though only when his godfather thought himself unnoticed.

"Juni was there." Snape's voice was much quieter. "She sat on the front steps, crying. As soon as she saw me, she ran over and took me in her arms. She was so cold. She'd been at a friend's house and came home to find our parents and Ethie dead. …I suppose, in my shock, I wasn't as cautious as I should have been. Juniata saw my Mark, and she saw the one above the house, and she screamed. I tried to explain, but she ran. I didn't speak with her again for many years… The next day, I found my way to Hogwarts. I'd had enough."

Harry swallowed. So that was that.

"Dumbledore, then," Harry said quietly. "Dumbledore was the other person who asked why you turned."

Snape shook his head. "I told him; he had no reason to ask."

Harry nodded, and suddenly his question didn't matter. It didn't seem a part of anything. Both men were silent. There was nothing left to say.

"Your lessons are finished," Snape spoke up at last. "The Killing Curse needs no practice; once you know, you know. You never forget."

"I won't do it again; I can't," Harry said, feeling as though his throat were a cavern.

"Everyone says that. Nearly everyone, at least." Snape started walking across the room, let out a slow sigh. "But you will. Death Eaters almost get addicted to it, but the first time is rarely pleasant, as with all dangerous drugs."

The cavern in Harry's throat felt as though it had turned inside out, trying to choke him. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, something rather disgusting might come out, and it wouldn't be in the form of words. So he just stood up and headed for the door. He'd almost closed it behind him when Snape suddenly spoke up.

"Azar."

Harry froze, a fist clenching his insides. Slowly, he turned his head, looking back at Snape. The Potions professor had his back to Harry.

"Azar Zundel," he said evenly, "was the only other person to ask why I turned back. I never told her."

Harry gripped the door handle, sure that his legs were about to break into a thousand pieces and send him to the floor. After a while, Snape turned his head and met Harry's gaze. The boy just nodded, unable to do anything else, and then left the room, the door clicking behind him.

Harry turned to go down the Fat Lady's corridor and nearly ran right into Draco. Both froze for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" Harry said before thinking.

Draco just gave him a glare and stalked off down the hall. Harry watched him and then suddenly spoke up.

"You were wrong, Draco," he said quietly.

Draco spun around. "No I wasn't," he countered, then after a pause, "About what?"

Harry made an effort to smile. "About killing. With a wand. It's nothing like snuffing out a candle."

Draco stared at him. "What would you know about it?"

"More than I wish I did."

Draco shifted slightly. A trace of curiosity played in his voice. "You know the Killing Curse?"

Harry nodded, staring at the wall.

"You…you've used it?"

Harry nodded again.

"On a person?"

"Not yet," Harry murmured.

It wasn't until then that Draco realized how tense his body was; he took a deep breath, the tension leaving. "But you plan to?"

Harry was silent for a full minute before he answered. "On one person." His eyes were still on the wall. "Just one. Good night, Draco."

He was almost into the portrait hole when Draco called after him. Harry looked back to where his friend still stood. For a while they just stood there, Draco seemingly struggling to say something. Harry felt a bit ill. Here came the questions that he didn't want to answer.

"Why'd you go after Nott?" Draco finally asked.

"To get detention," Harry said, somewhat surprised.

"Oh." Draco shrugged, cocking his head back slightly. "You should have said something. I would have been glad to help."

Harry smiled slightly.

"Good night, Draco."

"Good night, Harry."

The common room was a bustle of procrastinating Gryffindors, none of them willing to believe exams were even nearing. In a quick sweep of the room, Harry found Hermione sitting at her usual spot beside two empty chairs. She must have only just arrived; her stack of used books and papers was barely up to her chin. He walked over, sitting next to her.

"You're late," he said.

"Wha—oh, hello Harry. Late?"

"I haven't got my study chart yet," he said with a grin.

Hermione buried back into her essay. "Don't worry, I'll get it to you by Easter."

Harry was caught between laughter and pity. "I was joking, Hermione. You do remember what a joke is, don't you?"

"Of course. In fact, my essay for Flitwick is on Acheron Barnes' Good Old Joke charm where the listener, upon hearing it, will find it hilarious and have the overwhelming need to tell it to someone else, who does the same, until everyone in the world knows the joke yet they still laugh whenever they hear it. His ability to not only place a charm on spoken word but to pass that charm on through speech was—"

"Hermione, breathe, please, you're scaring me," Harry said, smiling.

"I will, I will—after Easter."

Out of the corner of his mind, Harry heard the portrait door open. The next sound he heard, however, got his and Hermione's full attention.

" 'APPY NEW YEAR!!!"

Every eye in the common room turned toward the portrait hole to find a very red-eyed and red-nosed Ronald Weasley with his arms spread wide and a broad smile on his face.

" 'Allo, 'allo, all!" he laughed, stumbling farther into the room and causing a titter through the crowd.

Shooting Hermione an apologetic glance, Harry hurried over to Ron.

" 'arry, mate, 'ow are you?" Ron asked as soon as he saw him, patting his friend on the cheek.

"Er, fine. Whew, your breath smells awful. Ron, are you okay? Where have you been?"

"It's my birthday!" he cried gleefully.

"Er, yes, I know that."

"Fred and George came and sneak-ted me to 'ogsmeade. Everyone gets absolutely trashed once in their lives, says they, s' might ah swell be on your eighteenth birthday, eh!"

"C'mon," Harry said, taking his friend around the shoulder, "I'm taking you to the dormitory before you make an idio—"

"Parvati!" Ron cried, flinging himself from Harry's grasp and toward the girl. " 'ow are you then? Did joo know today was my birthday? It is! And you didn't get me a present! I' s'okay, though; I'll take it now."

Without another word, and to the surprise of many, he roughly planted his lips on hers. The kiss lasted quite long and was intimate enough to invoke some whoops from a group of laughing third years. Harry nervously noticed Hermione hunched low over her work. When Ron finally pulled back, (the same third years applauding and whistling) Parvati opened her eyes wide while a small smile played on her lips.

"You call that a kiss!" Ron cried out. "I've 'ad better from a dead fish!"

Parvati's smile dropped from her face faster than a sleeping cat off a couch. The third years were no longer the only ones laughing.

"I mean, 'onestly, what kind of birthday present was 'at!"

Parvati was positively fuming now, her dark brown eyes looking more like canons ready to fire. Ron, oblivious to everything, simply slung an arm around her, pulling her close.

"Naw, but I's jus' joking," he slurred, nearly jaw-to-jaw with her. "I jus' wanted—"

What Ron wanted was to remain forever a mystery, for at that moment his stomach seemed to decide it didn't particularly like alcohol. He vomited, all down Parvati's robes. A shrill scream rang through the air, followed by the uproarious guffaws of the third year audience. Parvati shoved Ron away.

"You…you…you idiot!" she shrieked. "Never…! I can't…! We—are—through!!! Done! Finished! I never want to see you again!"

She shoved Ron hard, and Harry had to hurry forward to stop him from simply toppling over. Parting a sea of gawking Gryffindors, Parvati stormed to the stairs. A loud slam shook the castle. Soon the laughter died down, and Harry took on the task of saving his friend from further trouble.

" 'at leaves an awful mouth in your taste, di'joo know 'at?"

"I told you to come along before, but no," Harry muttered, trying to steer Ron towards the stairs. "I guess it could have been worse; you could have thrown up while you were kissing her."

Ron ignored this, swinging side-to-side as he walked and singing the school song to the tune of the national anthem. As the two boys started wobbling up the stairs, Harry could have sworn he heard someone snort. "Trelawney told her to beware a red-haired man."

He glanced back and saw Hermione. She was still hunched over her work but looked distinctly as though she were trying very hard not to laugh.

* * *

A/N: hides face in shame Believe it or not, this still exists, and I am still writing. Just very, very, very slowly. I'm sorry it was so late.

Thank you everyone who read and reviewed!

**Tanya:** Thank you! And actually the actor playing Draco is the same, just grown and new hair.

**Aalikane** Thank you, I will.

**Starry:** Thank you!

**Liliana-Suger** I'm beginning to forget what's going on, so don't blush. Thanks.

**Call-me-00Kat:** I'll try not to forget. Thank you!

**Louise Luvgood:** Thank you!

**Gemstone121:** I'll never give up, but I'll probably take my sweet time at it… I'll try to be quicker now, though. Thanks!

**Jona** grins Thank you!

**Jess Riddle:** grins Thank you. I'd say that I want you to get writing your own fics, but I don't want to pressure you, so I won't mention how I wish every day for more. Not one word.

**PadfootOldBuddyOldPal** She didn't make it up, but I will say she didn't see what she think she saw. Not completely. Oh, look at me, all dark and mysterious. Thank you!

**Prongs4:** Yeah, I've had to reread things recently. sigh But thanks for the review!

**uNoeWho** I won't kill Sirius, I promise. And thank you!

**Lauren:** Thank you!

**Hema** I'm really beginning to regret killing Azar. I think she may have been this story's muse. sigh Thanks for the review!

**Maggie:** Wow, thank you.

**Slycat-blaze11:** Aw, thank you. No significance to the dragon, sorry.

**Idon'tlikespam312: **Well, I used to think apparating came when you turned 18, but from book 5 it appears to be 17. Can't turn back now, so if I get to Harry's 18th birthday, he may very well learn. Voldemort didn't kill Sirius 'cause he wanted to make him suffer a bit; Sirius, inadvertently, managed to get away. Thank you!

**Alanpatty07:** Thank you!

**Annoyed:** Sorry, I hope I'll get more up soon!

**Joyce:** Wow, thank you. I can honestly say that your review was the kick in the butt that finally made me finish this and get it to my beta. So very much thank you.

Sorry if there are some mistakes in here; I decided to bite the bullet and put it up as is.

Be excellent to each other!

-Ady

9/17/04—Hey all. Have gone back and fixed the beta things I left in. self-punishment Dobby style! Can't believe I did that. And the next chapter is being betaed, so should be up soon. Thanks for your patience.

-Ady


	29. The Letter

A/N: Sorry this is so late! See note right below, but don't let it fool you: I took ages writing this before I sent it along.

Beta's note: please lynch me and not Ady for the horrendous lateness of this chapter. The thing's been betaed for over two months but I had a memory like a sieve and about four huge RL crises and only managed to remember to SEND it to her on the 22nd of November. In fact, you can thank her not only for writing the chapter but for calling and leaving odd messages on my phone so that I missed her enough to want to re-read all her fics, which reminded me that you hadn't read the latest chapter. So here it is. It's worth the wait. If you want to send me hate-mail, feel free: elucreh27yahoo. I deserve it. Luv ya, Lu

* * *

Chapter 29: The Letter

Ron remembered everything the next morning, in horrid, full-color detail. Of course, Dean and Seamus were happy to help him recall the finer points through an embellished reenactment. The seventh year Gryffindor boys roared with laughter at Ron's expense, at which he promptly told them to shut the hell up, he had a splitting headache.

Naturally Dean and Seamus proceeded to reenact Ron's downfall three more times, but a thrown copy of _Amazing Quidditch Moves You Only Wish You Could Do_ finally convinced them that the joke was no longer funny.

Leaving Ron to sort out the lead-shoe-wearing, tap-dancing spiders in his head, Harry headed for the common room. Hermione waited at the bottom of the stairs, wearing the first real smile Harry could remember her having in quite some time.

"How is he?" she asked, more amused than concerned.

Harry grinned. "Bit of a headache and severely wounded pride, but I think he'll get over it."

"If I were him," Hermione said, walking toward the portrait hole, "I'd forget the hangover and start worrying about Parvati's wrath."

Harry laughed, following her. "How bad was she?"

"Absolutely livid," Hermione said, sounding far from sorry about it. "Even Lavender was smart enough not to try to console her. She probably could have killed a chimera with her bare hands, and certainly would have if it mentioned Ron."

Harry shook his head with a smile. It was funny how…well, funny the whole situation was. If Ron and Hermione had had (another) row in front of the whole House, then there'd be fewer smiles and more tension. Of course, Hermione probably wouldn't have reacted the same way Parvati did. And if it had been Hermione, Ron probably wouldn't have acted the same way. So it might very well have been funny, but the situation would undoubtedly be quite different. Harry shook his head again; too much thinking.

"Where's the weasel?"

Harry and Hermione had just reached the entrance hall and found Draco waiting for them.

"He's not a weasel," Hermione said briskly.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Really? That's news to me. But he is suspiciously absent; I just said his Hindu goddess storm by, with flower but without weasel."

"Stop calling him that," Hermione said, a little heat behind her voice and her steps increasing in speed. "And she's not his Hindu goddess."

Draco sat with them at the Gryffindor table, sliding a bit of toast onto his plate. "Ah, so they had a row, did they? What happened?"

Harry tried to hold back a grin. "Ron came to the common room completely smashed and emptied his stomach onto Parvati."

Draco's laugh rang through the hall. "Oh, I'll bet she was pleased."

"Elated. Broke up with him that instant."

They both laughed, Draco shaking his head. "Well, happy birthday, Ronald."

"Stop laughing, it's not funny," Hermione suddenly scolded.

Draco smirked. "I beg to differ. It's quite funny."

"No it's not." The scowl on Hermione's face was growing. "He's your friend and I'm sure he feels awful."

"C'mon, Hermione, we all act like idiots sometimes," Harry said, nudging her. "Better to laugh than cry. Besides, even you were grinning about it."

"I—well, yes, but I shouldn't have. We should really be there for him right now."

"The last thing Ron wants now is his friends feeling sorry for him," Draco said pointedly.

Hermione glared at both of them. "Why is it that boys always turn other boys' downfalls into their triumphs? It's like you feel that because Ron got dumped, you've proven you're better than he is."

"I have, in a way," Draco smiled. "I knew better than to get a girlfriend in the first place. Far better to stay single and date a large quantity. For his sake, I hope he realizes this."

Hermione's face was pinched tight, her lips being replaced by a thin line. "You're just sore because no one in her right mind would have you for a boyfriend."

Draco smirked. "You're still sweet on him, aren't you?"

For a moment, Hermione stared at him. Then she sprang to her feet. "How dare you presume to know what I feel! You know nothing! Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bring Ron some breakfast, because I am his _friend_ and friends _care_ about each other and _take care_ of each other."

Snatching up some toast and bacon, Hermione stormed away from them.

"What on earth?" Harry stared. "I swear, she was beaming over it all this morning; what brought that on?"

Draco shrugged. "Who knows? She's female, remember?"

"Hold it, I thought you were the one who knew everything about women."

"I'm good, Harry, but not that good. No one's that good, not even women."

It only took Ron a week to crack a smile at his misfortune. And one week after that, he was laughing and insisting that Parvati was as bad a kisser as his drunk self had claimed. Parvati, on the other hand, reserved a number of dark glares for Ron, but told anyone who thought of cracking a joke that she had been planning to break up with him for weeks.

As Easter approached, promising N.E.W.T.s not long after, Harry, Ron, and Draco spent a number of evenings in the library. Hermione had tried to join them a couple of times, but angrily declared that they did more messing about than studying (which was quite true) and retreated alone to the Gryffindor common room.

Harry felt a bit guilty about this, but he tried to make up for it every evening after the library closed. Ron even sat with them most of the time, though he rarely said anything unless it was a chess victory cry. Even with his silence, however, Ron had picked up the interesting habit of looking up whenever someone entered the library. Coincidentally, he always seemed to need to "stretch my neck out a bit" whenever that someone was a brown-haired girl.

As for mealtimes, while it was a tossup as to whether Draco would eat with them or the Slytherins, Harry, Ron, and Hermione always ate together. Not even Ron could stay silent and sullen then.

So it came as a bit of a surprise the morning before Easter holidays when Harry woke and Ron wasn't there. He got dressed and went into the common room, and Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Six months ago, this would have been normal, but now it was a bit suspicious. Ron and Hermione hadn't seemed like they were building up to a make up. (Like fights, Harry could sense them coming.) Who knew, though. He might have missed the signs.

When he walked down to breakfast, though, Harry found Ron alone and…well, molting, which certainly was a change. Ron glanced up as Harry sat down, and then his eyes went straight back to his toast.

"I sent it," he said before Harry could ask him about the stray feathers.

"Sent what?"

"The letter. To Mum and Dad. The one about Percy." Ron seemed determined that his marmalade know this.

Harry didn't know quite how to respond to this, so he took the easy way out. "You did?"

"Yeah. I couldn't really sleep, so I got up early and sent it. Percy helped me write it a couple days ago." Ron was improving; now he was telling all this to Harry's plate instead of his own.

Again, Harry floundered slightly. "Er, how early did you get up?"

"Dunno, really," Ron shrugged, finally meeting Harry's eyes. "It was still dark."

"Er, yeah, that's pretty early."

"Yeah. I had to wait for Pig to come back from hunting. Turns out the owls all come back at the same time." Ron shook off a few feathers and then shrugged again. "I just—I hope they take it okay."

Harry smiled. "Your mum'll probably want to tell Percy off for not talking to her first."

"Naw, he's dead, she'll let him off. I'll get told off, you can bet on that," Ron said, though he must not have felt as sullen as he looked because he finally started eating the food on his plate.

They both jumped when Hermione's hand suddenly flew out and snatched a bit of toast with a quick, "Hello."

"Oi, not gonna join us?" Ron asked without thinking as Hermione started making a tower of muffins in one hand.

"Doing a flyby," Hermione explained. "Since you three make the library impossible to study in, I've got to go there whenever I can spare time and you can't."

"We're not that bad," Harry protested.

Hermione gave him a disamused look. "I'm just surprised Madam Pince hasn't thrown you out yet."

"Oh she has," said Draco, walking up behind her, "but we managed to charm our way back in."

He gave her a wink and then stole a muffin. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yes. Absolutely charming. Now if you don't mind, I must be off. See you in class."

She hurried off through the doors.

"Well, I'd better get back to my breakfast," Draco said, nodding to the Slytherins. "Just had to come over and see what the Gryffindors were conspiring about. Turned out to be studying. How disappointing."

"Hey, you study just as much as we do," Harry said in defense.

"I know. See what a horrid effect you've had on me?" Draco grinned and left them.

He didn't, however, stay at the table. Harry was surprised to see Draco grab a bit of toast and then follow Hermione's steps. When he turned back around, he found that Ron looking not so much surprised as exceedingly displeased.

"Where does he think he's going?" he said, viciously cutting into his bacon.

"Er, maybe he needs help in Arithmancy?"

Ron muttered through his full mouth, mainly to himself. "Yeah, that better be all he's looking for."

A great-horned owl suddenly fluttered down in front of Ron and gave a hoot. Ron raised an eyebrow at Harry but picked up the letter.

"Hey, it's addressed to me," Ron said, surprised and ducking the owl's wings as it took off.

"It isn't…"

Ron shook his head. "They can't have got my letter yet."

Ripping it open, Ron read it. His face fell and his freckles stood out against his suddenly pale skin.

"What is it?" Harry asked anxiously.

"My parents."

Ron handed the letter over.

Dear Ron,

We hope you are well.

Now, we know you probably have studying to do over the holiday, but we were hoping you could come home. We would like to talk to you about something that's rather important and that should be discussed in person.

Don't bother sending an owl in response. We know this is late. Just show up at Platform 9 ¾ if you are able to.

Love,

Mum and Dad

Harry felt his throat go dry. If anything bad had happened to the Weasleys….

"I'd better pack," Ron said hollowly.

Harry looked at him, hoping Ron would ask him to come along so he could help. "It'll be all right, Ron. I'm sure things are fine."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I'll see you in class, okay?"

"Okay."

Ron stood up and then halted. "Don't tell Hermione about the letter, okay? I don't want her to worry."

Harry nodded and watched Ron leave the room. He looked even lower than when Harry had come in, and just as feathery.

Not many students went home for Easter holidays, and this year was no exception. Most of those who did were still-homesick first years. Ron, however, looked plain ill.

"Owl me and let me know what's going on," Harry said.

Ron could only manage a nod. Draco looked completely lost for words, for once.

Awkwardly, Ron peered at the front doors. "Where's—"

"She had an appointment with Flitwick," Draco said, relieved at having something to say. "Wanted to ask him about weightless charms. She said she'd try to see you off, though."

Ron shrugged but there was a noticeable droop in his back. The droop disappeared a moment later, thanks to a small, fluffy projectile slamming into the back of his head.

"Ow! What—Pig!" Ron growled, glaring at the owl spread-eagled on the ground, clearly dazed from the collision. "Damn it, why don't you work right?"

He scooped the little owl up in his fist, checking his feet. "Where's their response, huh?"

Pig suddenly went even more wide-eyed than usual.

"You left before getting it, didn't you? Ruddy, no-good owl! If I had any common sense, I'd—"

"Come along, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall called, having finished ushering a particularly hysterical first year into the carriage.

Abandoning his rant, Ron tucked the owl in his pocket. Giving the castle a quick look, he waved at Harry and Draco and then joined the younger years. The carriage immediately set out.

"Wait!"

Hermione almost tripped running down the stairs and was out of breath when she reached Harry and Draco.

"Oh no, I missed him," she said, frowning slightly.

"He knew you were coming," Draco reassured her.

She sighed, staring as the carriage went out of sight. "I don't see why he's going. None of us have ever gone home for Easter before."

Harry wished he had someone to shoot a sideways glance at, but he kept his promise.

"So, shall we play Exploding Snap? Gobstones? Or—oh! I know!" Draco grinned. "Let's study!"

Hermione grinned back. "So glad you're oh-so-willing, Draco."

He was now positively beaming. "Anything for a study session with my favorite Mu—ggleborn."

Hermione glared. "Oh now I'm really looking forward to it."

The next day went along very slowly. He might joke, but Draco actually studied. Harry would have given anything to have Ron there to give up and go play Quidditch with.

After supper, Hermione allowed them to go to their dormitories for a respite. He found Percy sitting on Ron's bed, sullenly stroking a prostrate, gray feather duster.

"Percy; what are you doing here?" Harry asked, catching the gasp that always came with seeing Percy turn up.

"Waiting for Ron. He told me a few days ago he was going to owl Mum and Dad about my…current state. I felt I ought to know what their reaction was," Percy said slowly. His translucent skin looked a little paler than usual.

Harry wondered whether he should tell Percy about the letter, but the thought was cut off at the ghost's next remark.

"But it looks like I was just in time to find out."

He nodded at the feather duster, which Harry recognized as the Weasleys' owl, Errol. He looked in worse shape than Harry could ever remember him in, and that was certainly saying something. In fact…. Harry laid a hand on Errol's chest.

"Percy," he said quietly, withdrawing his hand, "I think he's died."

With a cry, Percy recoiled and leapt to his feet. "Good lord, I can't believe I've been petting a dead thing!"

Harry stared at the ghost for a long time.

"Well, that's a downer," Percy finally said, wiping his hand on his robes. "And here Mum and Dad thought Ron would finish him off, but they did it themselves."

Knitting his brows, Harry looked back at the owl. Tied to Errol's foot was a sealed letter…from the Weasleys.

Harry snatched it up and tore it open.

"Hey now!" Percy cried, leaping to his feet. "You don't just go around tearing open other people's mail! You could be fined by the Ministry for that!"

Harry ignored him, skimming the letter. This was definitely the response to the letter Ron had just sent them. His eyes froze on a phrase, near the bottom.

'We know Hermione will probably have you spending your holidays studying, but we'd like to come to Hogwarts to talk with you.'

Bolting to his feet, Harry scrambled for the door.

"And now you're stealing it!" Percy cried out. "Ron's going to—"

"Ron's not here!" Harry yelled at him. "He went home; that's the point!"

Without another word, he took the stairs three at a time, nearly bowled over a first year in the common room, and then started sprinting up the girls' staircase yelling for Hermione. He hadn't even got to the fifth stair, however, before his feet slid out from under him and he slammed onto a long stone chute, which sent him sliding back to the common room. Dazed, with a ringing in his ears that sounded a lot like someone leaning on their car horn, he fingered his chin; it was bleeding.

"Harry, look out!"

Harry rolled out of the way just as Hermione came sliding down feet-first.

"Are you okay? What were you doing?"

"They not let boys up there?"

Hermione smiled. "Any need to ask why?"

"No, I guess not."

"You're bleeding!"

"Just a bit. My ears are ringing horribly, though; it's like high-pitched blaring—"

"Everyone hears that; it's the stairs."

"Oh."

"Now what did you need to talk to me about?"

For a moment, Harry couldn't remember. Then he spotted the letter in his hand.

"Ron! His parents, they wro—" Hermione snatched up the letter before he could get the word out. "Last paragraph, read—"

But the frozen look on Hermione's face made it quite clear she'd read it. And that's all she did: freeze. Perhaps her eyes went a bit wider or her skin a bit paler; Harry wasn't sure if he just imagined that happening because it seemed like some reaction at least. She just kept staring, not quite at the letter because her eyes didn't seem focused on anything. Just staring.

"What should we do?" Harry asked quickly, as though to convince himself time hadn't stopped.

Hermione didn't respond.

Harry struggled to take up the role Hermione was supposed to have. "I mean, in the last letter, they told him to come. They wouldn't say they were coming right after that. Right?"

Finally, Hermione spoke. "They…might have forgot."

"What?"

"Forgot they told him to come," she murmured, still not looking at him. "It was a…a shock, so they…forgot."

There was silence again. Harry felt…well, awkward. A Hermione in hysterics he could handle; a Hermione with the right book and professor to consult was normal. But a Hermione who didn't do anything, not even panic…

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked, quietly because Hermione only muttered whispers. "We should go to Dumbledore, right?"

"They forgot…. I'm sure they forgot…."

Something exploded in Harry's stomach. What was she doing? Ron could be in trouble and she was just trying to deny it. He knew she'd broken it off between them, but honestly, she still cared a little bit about him, didn't she?!

"They must have—"

Harry grabbed her shoulders, more roughly than he'd meant to. "Hermione! Stop saying that! They Did Not Forget! Ron's in trouble, and he'll be in more trouble if we just sit here and pretend he's fine!"

Hermione stared at him a moment, then blinked. Her eyes lost their glaze. "Oh my god. You're right. Dumbledore, yes, let's go to Dumbledore."

About bloody time!

Ron woke to a dirtied, stone wall. He stared for a long time, then closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them, he expected to be back at Hogwarts in his four-poster bed, but there was that wall again. He gazed up at it, taking in the low ceiling, barred window, and jagged etchings that seemed to count into nothingness. Slowly, he sat up. His arms itched painfully and he rubbed along them only to find bits of straw stuck to them. It came from all that was on the floor, spread sparsely, molded from years of use. He pulled them off, leaving long red imprints in his skin. He'd been there a long time. The room smelled dank and rotten, like a tomb. The air was rancid, and cold. Very, very cold.

He tried to remember how exactly he'd gotten there. He'd taken the Hogwarts Express, arrived at Platform 9 ¾, and searched for his parents. The platform was nearly empty when he decided to see if they were waiting out at the station. Then he had felt a hand on his shoulder and before he could turn around, all went dark.

Ron slowly turned in his sitting position to see the rest of the room, and was taken aback to find a wall of bars and a woman staring at him from behind them. Instinctively, he reached for his wand, only to find it wasn't there.

"What's going on?! Where's my wand?!" he cried, somewhere between panic and anger.

The woman's eyes glinted behind her oval-shaped glasses. "We could hardly let you keep your only chance of escape," she said as though they were talking pleasantly over tea. "The Dark Lord is much too clever for that."

Ron grew quiet a moment before yelling, "Where am I?! What's going on?!"

The woman acted as though she hadn't heard him, simply opening the parchment in her hands. She began to read from it.

"Ronald Weasley, seventh year student at Hogwarts, Gryffindor," the word rolled off her tongue like nails, "Prisoner 137 of Azkaban."

"Azkaban? Prisoner?" Ron gaped, his eyes widening.

Again, she continued like she hadn't heard him, though a malicious smile inched onto her face. "Termination: Dependent."

Ron felt the anger coursing through him. "Answer me! Why am I here?! What have I done?!"

The woman peered over her glasses, looking rather as though she was enjoying herself. "You became Head Boy," she said evenly. "You are brother to the Minister. And you are friends with Harry Potter."

"You still haven't told me why I'm here," he growled.

"The Dark Lord has plans for you," she smiled. "Should all go well, you will aid in the death of Harry Potter."

The color drained from Ron just a moment, returning even redder. He clenched his teeth and fists.

"Never! I'd never do anything to hurt Harry!"

"Your choice," she sighed. "Either Harry Potter dies soon, or you die soon. Of course, whatever way you choose, Potter will get it in the end. Nobility gets you nowhere, Weasley." She tipped her head down slightly, the torchlight glinting off her glasses. "Just look at what happened to the Ravenclaw brat."

Ron felt flame erupt behind his eyes. "Monster!" he yelled, springing towards her.

It was when his feet were pulled from beneath him and he slammed hard against the ground that Ron realized his ankles were in shackles, chained to the wall. He groaned; every bone in his body felt as though it had been shattered against the stone.

"You do need to learn some self-control," she said, peering thoughtfully at the parchment in her hands. "Let's see if a few days without food will teach you."

With that, she walked away, leaving Ron curled up on the floor.

The explanation to Dumbledore was quick and the reaction was instant. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were owled; a convoy was sent to Platform 9 ¾ to find out if Ron had made it there, and what had happened after if he did; and Hermione stood in the middle of everything and didn't say a word. How many times they'd all sat in that office, waiting…. It was an odd feeling wishing that Draco Malfoy was there, but Harry thought he'd be a help to Hermione. His attempts sure weren't doing any good.

In fact, he wasn't doing any good at all. Dumbledore had gone to the platform, McGonagall had gone to meet the Weasleys, and everyone assured him he should just sit there and let others act. And he felt no reason to object. Sure, he'd panicked before, but it was just panic. Nothing would happen to Ron; there was no reason for anything to happen to Ron. Hermione might have been right. Or maybe Fred and George had pulled a prank on Ron. Yeah, that sounded like them.

The office door opened. McGonagall walked in, followed closely by Mrs. Weasley. She stood straight and held an expression of calm, but her eyes were rimmed with red and her breathing was heavier than usual.

No, Harry thought, the bottom of his stomach dropping out to be replaced with panic again. Fred and George would never have done this.

Mrs. Weasley's eyes shone as they fell on Harry. "Harry. Hermione. Are you—" Her voice stumbled, but a hand suddenly grasped her shoulder, catching it. She gave a grateful glance behind her. "Are you all right?" she finished her question.

While Mrs. Weasley's voice had merely stumbled, Harry discovered his had run off. He just stared at the man holding Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, the man that should have been Mr. Weasley, not Draco Malfoy. Draco's eyes—not steel or silver, but gray—met Harry's gaze and didn't waver.

"Arthur Apparated straight to the Platform," Mrs. Weasley said, sensing the question in the air.

Harry nodded, blinking, as Draco led Mrs. Weasley to a chair. She seemed a lot calmer. Draco turned, glancing at Harry and nodding almost imperceptibly at Hermione. Harry shifted his shoulders. Quietly, Draco walked over and knelt by Hermione's chair. Although they were sitting close, Harry couldn't hear a word Draco whispered to her.

"Don't," Hermione suddenly said, her first words since Dumbledore left. "Just don't."

Harry almost growled. If Draco was trying anything….

Catching Harry's glare, Draco's eyes widened slightly. But he shrugged, stood, and began to pace the room. Harry felt like growling again. Like Draco really cared what was going on; hadn't even asked about the letter. He had no reason to…

The thought halted at the glance Draco gave Mrs. Weasley. So maybe he did have a reason to be there. He cared about—

This thought stopped too, but only because Harry quickly forced it away. It was too quiet; his mind was running away with things.

"You got Ron's last letter, right, Mrs. Weasley?" he said, making her jump.

She wasn't the only one. Hermione spun at him and even Draco shifted his gaze Harry's way. Hermione's eyes were like those of a wild creature caught in a corner. Suddenly Harry realized what he'd said.

"I mean, the last one he sent you—not that—the latest one. The latest one he sent you." Why had his tongue been replaced by a flobberworm?

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley said, acting as though the question hadn't hit a nerve. "You knew then, dear?"

Ah. Brilliant.

Draco didn't attempt to hide his questioning stare, and Hermione, while still not looking up, seemed to be deliberately doing so instead of just staring into space.

"Well, er, Ron wasn't sure…how to tell you," Harry said, feeling his face grow hot. "He needed to—talk it through, I guess. And I don't know if he told you but I was…"

Harry had thought back to that night when Percy's ghost had scared him into the toilet, and each time he smiled. It suddenly seemed a lot less amusing when he faced Mrs. Weasley.

"He should have told you sooner."

Hermione's voice cut clean through the air. Her eyes held firm to Mrs. Weasley's. "But you know Ron. He doesn't like being direct—"

Draco snorted slightly.

"—about things like this," Hermione continued without missing a beat. "We didn't want to push him. He had to come to terms with everything himself."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, her watery eyes falling upward. There was a definite cloud in Draco's gaze now, but he fought it back as he turned to the woman. Not so far back that he would forget about it, of course.

"He'll be okay," Draco said quietly, though Mrs. Weasley didn't look at him. "Ron can take anything that comes at him, and since my fist has often been that anything, I should know."

Mrs. Weasley gave a sobbing laugh, finally looking at Draco and then suddenly taking him up in her arms. Like she'd always done it. Like a son.

Harry stared at them with unseeing eyes. Draco was right: Ron could take on anything. But, he thought, a lead weight settling in his stomach, if it weren't for him, Ron wouldn't have to.

Ron's eyes shot open to the sound of a scream. It was a while before he realized that the scream was coming from his own mouth. He promptly shut it but couldn't help the deep shuddering breaths. Clutching to the floor, he felt—however odd it might seem—relieved to find himself in Azkaban still, even relieved at feeling like his stomach was eating itself. It was better than being…. It didn't matter whether his eyes were open or closed, the scene played over and over in front of him, silent but as vivid as the day it happened. The faceless white queen slowly advancing; Harry, fists clenched, biting his tongue; Hermione, face drawn and pale around dark, wide eyes, sharp and contrasting like an inverted night sky. He was going to leave them, going to—and they would go on alone. He wouldn't be there to help them, to save them. The queen lifted her arm, it started to swing, and then Hermione screamed.

Oh yes. He'd heard the scream just before everything went black. He heard it now, too. The rest of the world was silent, but Hermione's scream bounced off his eardrums like they were rubber bands. Hermione screaming, screaming, and he couldn't help her. Screaming over and over….

Ron realized he was tearing at his hair and quickly shoved his hands under himself. He wouldn't let this happen; he could fight the Dementors. After all, he knew Hermione had been fine, hadn't even been hurt. And she'd come back to him.

But it didn't matter that he knew. That fear kept flowing through him, and a new scene was playing. The moon appeared; Lupin froze; "RUN!"; the black dog; Pettigrew fell; Ron went with him. And then Hermione screamed. Scrambling, Ron turned, looked, and there were the same dark eyes, the same pale face. And then darkness. He'd left them again. She'd screamed when she saw the troll, and he'd run to save her. But he couldn't this time. He couldn't run to her and tell her everything would be all right, because it wouldn't. He was leaving her to go on alone, and he knew she'd scream again, and he wouldn't be there to hear it.

Ron unclenched his jaw. His teeth had been grinding against each other.

He couldn't do this. He wouldn't let himself go insane. Somehow, he'd get out of here, and what good would it do if he went straight to St. Mungo's when he did? No, he had to…how had Sirius done it? Innocence, he always kept thinking that he was innocent. Ron shook his head; that wouldn't work for him. He wasn't innocent, not of the things that had brought him here.

A sudden warmth seemed to settle over him, a breath in the cold, and a face framed by bushy hair crept into his vision. He almost smiled; but then the happiness faded and a pale arm wrapped around Hermione's shoulder. Ron's face burst into a snarl as Draco Malfoy leered at him, his face brushing lightly against Hermione's hair.

_"She's mine now, Weasley,"_ Malfoy said, leaning in closer to her.

Ron practically snorted. _Yeah right, Malfoy. She'd never have you._

Malfoy sneered. _"Maybe not before, but you broke her, Weasel. I just had to come and sweep up the pieces. She's putty in my hands."_

Malfoy's hand suddenly snaked to her waist and he pulled her close. Too close.

_Get away from her, Malfoy_, Ron thought, his stomach boiling.

_"What if she doesn't want me to get away?"_ Malfoy said, his eyes glinting.

_Oh believe me, she does._

_"Well, that doesn't really matter. If I want her, I'll have her."_

His other hand grabbed Hermione's chin and thrust it towards him, their lips locking. Ron flared.

_Leave her alone, Malfoy!_

Malfoy's kissing became harder, more fervent.

_I said leave her the hell alone!!!_

Malfoy glanced Ron's way through slitted eyes. The corner of his mouth turned up and he pulled back slightly to show the tongue he had shoved in Hermione's mouth.

Something in Ron exploded.

"SOD OFF, YOU BUGGERING PRAT!!!"

"Really, Mr. Weasley, have you learned nothing?"

Ron spun around and found the witch with glasses…inside his cell. The door was open. For an instant, Ron's heart soared; then a Dementor glided in front of the opening.

"You really should receive punishment, but then you would be late for your appointment," the witch said in a bored tone, though her eyes watched Ron warily.

They weren't supposed to be showing anger two days into it. Granted, anger wasn't a happy thought that could be sucked away, but most couldn't find it in their despair. Anger wasn't a good sign.

"Appointment?" Ron said.

"Yes. Come along, then," the witch said. With a wave of her wand, the chain connecting his ankle manacles to the wall was released: chains appeared around his wrists to compensate. Beckoning, she left the cell.

Ron hesitated for a moment, but then realized he had little to lose. In any case, he wanted to leave the cell, even if only for a moment.

"Weasley! Weasley boy!"

Spinning around, Ron found the source of the voice: a man with a gaunt face and haunted eyes peering through bars. With a jolt, he realized that he recognized the man; he worked at the Ministry.

"You must be a Weasley!" the man cried, his voice rasping but loud. "Tell Arthur that Bode's here! I'm not dead; don't give up on Bode! I'm not—"

The witch snatched out her wand and sent a spell at the frantic man. He yelped and fell back into the shadows.

"What did you do that for?" Ron cried.

She sniffed. "He was delaying us. Come on then."

"Where are we going?" he asked, glaring at her back. "Who's this appointment with?"

"Ask any more questions," the witch said, not even turning her head, "and you'll regret it."

Ron snorted.

A sudden blast sent him flying into the wall; there was a loud crunch and Ron yelled as a burning pain shot through his arm. The witch smiled down at him, twirling her wand.

"It wasn't a soddy question!" Ron yelled, clutching at his arm.

The wariness from before flashed behind the woman's eyes. She grabbed the arm she'd broken and yanked him to his feet. Ron nearly bit his tongue in two trying to hold back the scream.

"You'll soon learn, Mr. Weasley," she said daintily, "that silence is a virtue."

With that, she flung him forward and through a door. Ron managed to keep his balance, clutching his arm tightly to him and jumping when the door slammed behind him. He glanced up and saw a tall figure standing behind a desk.

Ron had heard his description again and again, from his dad and from Harry. Before that instant, he would have sworn the countenance wouldn't surprise him. And he was right; it horrified him.

Lord Voldemort's face broke into a smile.

A/N: Hey, yes, this is horribly, horribly late, but I actually do still live and do still write. Go figure.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I know I do little to pay you back for your kindness, but it means so much to me that you take the time to tell me what you think. Thank you.

**Shrimp/Jewels:** Oh, never forget! (Although it might be better to find a higher quality fic site than ffn. cough)

**Gemstone121:** Thank you.

**jona: **Whee, thank you, Jo! Your support always means so much to me.

**shyy:** Wow, thank you. I'm sure your work is a lot better than you think. (We are all our own worse critics.)

**Katme:** lol Meh, I feel like being as cryptic as JKR, so not telling. Thanks.

**dnd4ever: **Thanks.

**G14 the Real 1: **Thank you! And welcome.

**Geneveva:** Sorry this took so long, but thanks for your reviews!

**Colibi:** Sorry! I know, I'm horrible about updating. It's my real life's fault. But I'm glad you've stuck with me so long, thank you!

**slycat-blaze11:** lol I'm glad you liked it. Thanks.

**Rawiya Prabhakar:** Thank you!

**Abbey: **Thank you!

**Tanya:** lol You put it wonderfully. And thank you. I'm not a Snape-lover, but definitely a Snape-sympathizer. So sorry I took so long.

**Ruby2:** Thank you, I'll check it out.

**Dez:** Wow, thank you.

**Sirithtalwen:** Yes, I loved it, my fav. of the movies so far! Thank you!

**Mado:** lol I don't know what you think it was, so I don't know. But thanks!

**Anna:** Wow, thank you. And I didn't stop. I was just delayed a little while.

**Lauren:** Thanks! And yeah.

**thenewguy:** lol Well, Fred and George got him drunk, which I can definitely see happening, so hey. Thank you.

**Sweet Daydream:** lol Killing off my professors would do more good than killing me. No homeworklots of fic writing. Thanks.

**Mitchell:** Thank you.

**Kim:** No, I'm still writing, just very slowly. Thank you.

**yerbroham:** Thank you, Pete!

**Elucreh:** Eep, I know! Ugh.

**Frogs Rok:** Thank you! And no, I'm definitely not insulted. I actually like the idea.

**AriannaRiddle:** Thank you.

Well, no more silly promises on my part. It probably will be a long time before I update again, and I completely understand if you hate me for that and just ignore this story. I don't expect you to stick with me, but I'm grateful if you do.

Be excellent to each other!

-Ady


End file.
